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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428027">Beloved Rockstar</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakurthigh/pseuds/Sakurthigh'>Sakurthigh</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>BUCK-TICK</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Camp Nanowrimo, Existential study of romantic relationships, First Time, Friendship, J-ROCK Band, M/M, Masturbation, Self-Discovery, Visual Kei, erotic romance, short novel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:27:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>46,422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428027</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakurthigh/pseuds/Sakurthigh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When you’re so big a celebrity that you can’t have a relationship without the luggage of ulterior motives, who can you trust?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Atsushi Sakurai/ISSAY (Der Zibet)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This short novel fic was originally written and published in weekly serialization by myself to LiveJournal on August 3, 2015 through February 14, 2016, and has been imported to Archive of Our Own to preserve it.</p><p>Its rough draft was a July session Camp NaNoWriMo 2015 50k+ word count winner. You will notice a significant difference between my short stories, which have a lot of immersive location and other situational research involved, and this story: the speed of the Camp NaNoWri Mo experience eliminated that- it just wasn’t possible with the time constraints. </p><p>It was written with a full plot outline. In the state that it had been published, it is a first draft. I have decided to retain the quickly hammered out tiny blunders, particularly in depicting Japanese foods and meals, rather than rework it into a second draft for Archive of Our Own. Perhaps in the future.</p><p>When I originally serialized this novel, it was met with hostility and blackballing in the fic community. Not a single “like” or positive comment, only mocking, then stony silence. </p><p>It was supposed to be a multi-book arced story, and I already had the outline and a partial plot outline drafted for book two, when I made the decision to stop writing and publishing BUCK-TICK fan fic, at least for the interim... there’s no point putting in the hundreds and hundreds of hours to just talk to yourself, and make yourself a target in the process. I had no safe venue for publication.</p><p>Depending on its reception here, I may pick the story up again and write the long delayed book two. </p><p> </p><p>***********************</p><p> </p><p>I wrote this story to explore the personal existential problems of finding genuine love, and finding it in a decidedly non-cisgender way with a trusted friend... the confusion and roller coaster of emotions we all face when seeking ourselves, life ends up dealing us rainbows. </p><p>It was, and is, my intent to create a story that speaks comfort and solace to those navigating those rocky waters to their honest and true selves, and to know that you’re not different, not strange, and you are not alone.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Beloved Rock Star<br/>
Chapter 1</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“We need something that’ll wow them- I mean, really knock them over like never before.” Imai sat back on his couch, his elbow on the arm rest, cigarette in hand. The band had gathered to discuss the direction that their album was taking, so they could begin to get an idea of how they wanted to express it in set design for the tour… at least, that was what he had claimed when he had phoned earlier. You can’t expect a design company to create genius under extreme time constraints, he had told him, but it was just another excuse to hold court and get drunk in the process.</p><p> “How the hell do we do that?” Hidehiko complained. Their last tour had a mock up of a ceremonial magic temple, but larger than life- sphinx, statues, pyramids, pillars- the works. “We just paid for fucking Egypt to be hauled clean over to Kyoto and back again. All of it ends up coming out of our profits at the end of the day.”</p><p>Sakurai stared across the room through the thick, swirling, acrid smoke. Imai’s massive CD collection lined a wall and a half from floor to ceiling, and next to it, just past the corner, began the shelves and shelves full of vinyl. He’d been collecting it all for years, but Sakurai wasn’t sure if Imai did it for the actual music’s sake, or to glean ideas to compose the next song that came along. Or perhaps he did it just to prove how dedicated he was to music- like some men flaunt garages full of expensive cars, Imai had his damned CDs- enough to fill a small warehouse.</p><p>He didn’t like sitting still for long if he wasn’t involved in anything, and Imai didn’t want to hear what he had to contribute- he knew it instinctively. He stood and went over to the second CD shelving unit, and picked at the cracked spine of one of the jewel cases he found there. Bowie. Sakurai sighed. They wanted to be remembered like Bowie.</p><p>Yuta stood up to go grab another beer from the fridge in the bar. There was a pause in conversation, and a Zippo flicked, adding to the gray haze. Sakurai called over his shoulder without turning around, staring at the cover art of the album: TO BE PLAYED AT MAXIMUM VOLUME. “Could we have Issay do backup vocals for something? I’ve done a few on his, and we owe him the publicity.” Yuta’s bottle of  beer hissed open, and the cap bounced off the floor. A moment later, the trash can clanked from the lid being tossed in. “Works for me.” He sat back in the recliner, and took a sip.</p><p> Imai didn’t reply at first. He was hedging. “Hmm… I don’t know. There’s not really any place for him. I don’t have any pieces that would be appropriate for that.” Sakurai watched Imai search for excuses. He did the same thing last album too. Hidehiko intervened, “Maybe it could be on my song. It calls for a lot of layered vocals. It could use the texture.” Sakurai flicked a glance at him. He was lying- he’d not even begun work with him on the lyrics yet, but Imai didn’t know that. He was covering his ass, most likely tired of seeing Imai stonewall his input. He turned away, not wanting Imai to see how pathetic he felt at having to have Hidehiko go to bat for him.</p><p>“Yeah, fine, whatever. That’s not what we’re working on right now though.” Imai loved reminding them of his rank. This was his little meeting. Sakurai was pissed, tired of the power games. He put down the CD case next to the player, and set the disc up in the multi-CD changer’s cue. “OK, let’s talk about the show then. Fuck the set. We need to grab their attention with more overt fan service, like we used to.” Like Bowie did as Ziggy, he thought. He walked back to his end of the couch and flopped down, glaring at Imai in challenge.</p><p>Imai exhaled, and smoke curled over the coffee table. He snuffed out his cigarette, though it was only half done. “No. Whenever we start focusing on fan service, the rumors start: ‘IS IMAI GAY??’ I don’t know how you do it, but it’s always ‘IS IMAI GAY?’, but never ‘IS SAKURAI GAY?’. I end up going the entire tour with the girls giggling and staring, and barely getting laid. I get the shit end of the stick. You- somehow, you end up cashing in and they line up in droves, though you play the ‘top’. Fuck that.”</p><p>Toll snorted. “OK, then, you can be the top this time.” The icy stare he received from Imai had Toll doubled over laughing. He almost kicked over a half empty beer bottle on the floor. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’. Aw, A-chan, he doesn’t want to top you!”</p><p>The room filled with guffaws. “Oh, shut the fuck up. You’re not helping.” Sakurai tried to look aloof, but crumbled and began to laugh.</p><p> </p><p>________________________________________</p><p> </p><p> His shoes slipped off, and went into the rack next to the door of his apartment. Ugh. Shower. He could smell the stale beer and cigarettes on his T-shirt from the meeting he’d just left. Was anything even accomplished? Imai kept on vetoing every suggestion anyone made, as usual. Sakurai sighed. Except for one. Issay, if he agrees, will be pulling backup vocals on a track. This was something.</p><p>Keys out of his jeans pocket,  they clattered into the dish on the end table next to his shoe rack. Pulling the skanky T-shirt over his head as he walked, Sakurai headed into the bathroom. His pants soon followed, and were tossed along with the T-shirt into a laundry hamper near the bath towel rack. Scratching his belly, Sakurai yawned. He stared at his reflection in the mirror over the bathroom sink. Bloodshot. His head swam. He’d put away quite a bit of beer at the meeting, but doubted that he’d have much of a hangover from it in the morning. God, my hair has gotten so long. It’s down to my ass now. He’d been growing it for years, ever since phasing out the Punk hair. Like a ghostly samurai- that’s what he’d wanted. Then everyone started growing their hair out, and emulating it. Though it looked great and he could really work it on stage, it’d become commonplace.</p><p>He flushed the toilet, and turned on the shower. Sakurai stood under the spray, and soaked his hair down. Rivulets of water ran down his face. He thought of the distance that Imai had put between them since the ‘Sabbat’ tour. Granted, he’d shocked the crap out of Imai when he stuffed his fingers into his mouth while Imai was playing his solo on the floor (which was hilarious), but the fans missed their flirtations.</p><p>His heart swept a small thrill of excitement to his hands, and he turned to face the shower. Hot water stung his face in a heavy pulse spray. He reached for the shower gel, and started to lather up. What the hell do I really want, anyway? Is this for the show, or am I making excuses to fool around with Imai? Sakurai rinsed off the soap, and dismissed the thought. The girls loved it. He got offers for more sex than he could possibly participate in afterwords. A twinge of dishonesty hit him. Yeah, he got laid alright… but he was turned on before he ever left the stage.</p><p>His cock tingled. Yes, the music was perverse and erotic, and he loved the challenge of singing it live. It challenged all the proper behaviors he’d been taught growing up in tired old Fujioka. It broke all the rules, and they paid him to do it. But seduction on stage- nuzzling up to Imai as the girls screamed for more- he could never admit to how much he got off on that. He liked them watching, imagining that it was their face that he brushed his lips against.</p><p>His cock began to thicken. He was getting hard, thinking about the crowds watching him. Shampoo ran down his back, and rinsed into the drain. A large handful of peppermint deep conditioner got worked into his long hair as his cock grew heavy. He’d never admit to how much care and effort went into keeping his hair in top condition, particularly after all the hair color and styling hell that it’d been through. His fingers raked slowly through the strands, working the rich emollient into it. It smelled wonderful, bright and cool. He liked it after a night of drinking to help clear his head.</p><p>All too vivid erotic visions flashed before his eyes- so fast, he could barely see what they actually were, other than sexual. Like zoetroped clips from a porn movie strobing past, of his own making. His cock twitched in it’s arousal, and he sighed. He was too turned on now, and it wasn’t going to go down on it’s own any more. He’d have to take care of it. Sakurai shot another generous pump of the peppermint conditioner into his hand, and warmed it for a moment, then stroked it over his cock and his balls. Intense, icy, pepperminty sensations started to sink into his skin, and he propped his left hand on the wall and began slow, caressing strokes over the head and frenulum beneath it. He shivered. Spread his feet a little bit to steady his balance. Water spray glanced off his shoulder, joining the steam condensate on the wall. His hand squeaked on the wet tile as it slipped down, leaving a darker trail where the water beads were united, streaming down to the floor. He paused his fingers, rubbing over the edge of grout separating some of the tiles, fascinated by the feel of it’s texture.</p><p>The audience roared in his mind. He was leaning over, a cascade of his long hair falling over Imai, almost obscuring the guitar in his hands from sight. Screams. Girls reached out with both arms, the security bar bouncing under the sheer force of it. Rows of guards fought to hold it in place. They love us! He stroked his erection a bit faster in the shower, and moaned. The crowd watched as his cheek caressed Imai’s red ear (Oh, how his ears turn red when he blushes!) so hot, burning, flushed… Imai’s eyes closed, and the screams became deafening. Sakurai let his lower lip catch on Imai’s cheek, not quite a kiss, just a suggestion of one. It tugged in his fantasy, and he could actually feel it, along with droplets of bitter chlorinated water from the shower. His hips thrust wildly, and he came just as the audience tried to rush the security barrier.</p><p>It was the crowd watching that did it, he thought awkwardly as his cock softened, taking the shower sprayer down to rinse his cum off the wall tile.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They headed towards a more solitary table on the windowless side of the izakaya pub, away from the other customers. He’d called Issay the next day after the band meeting, and they’d decided to make a casual working dinner of it. “So. The band is interested in back up vocals?” Issay wiped his fingers on the warm towel he was handed, then accepted a glass of beer. Dishes of munchies began arriving. Sakurai reached for a whelk roll. “Yes. Hidehiko has a song that we’re going to be working on together, if you decide to go for it. It was my suggestion.”</p><p>“I see.” A loud group of office workers in the front of the restaurant cheered and posed, raising their glasses, and a camera flash went off. Tokyo life flowed around them. “Well… you’ve collaborated on a few of my songs over the years. Sounds good. Let me know what you’ve got, when you’re ready.” He bit into a piece of rather burnt looking chicken yakitori, wrinkled his nose in distaste, then shoved the rest of it to the side of his plate.</p><p>Conversation dropped off. Pensive and withdrawn, Sakurai sipped his shochu and stared at his glass. The last tour sucked, he admitted to himself. They’d gotten so wrapped up in the external- the bigger, better, darker, that somewhere along the way they’d forgotten to enjoy it. He felt like a prize pony, being carted out to be ogled for his hair anymore. It’d sort of felt like that in the old days too, spending hours in the chair getting it teased up and sprayed to hell and back. Here it is- the walking hairdo! Man, not included.</p><p>Dabbling with the sax was a disaster, chosen in a crisis- he wanted to be able to contribute more to be seen as a valid musician, and he’d borrowed a page from Bowie. He’d been slammed in interviews with crap about his hair all the time, and he had started to feel like a hood ornament- a piece of decor to lure in the girls, but not really doing anything musically that felt valid to himself. Taking up a tangible instrument, the saxophone, wasn’t the answer that he’d thought it would be. After all of that, he just wanted to get back to the familiar and have fun again.</p><p>A waiter came and left, taking away some of the empty trays and refilled Issay’s beer. He ate quietly. Likely Issay was watching the thoughts he was unwilling to share yet could never quite hide, play across his face like a movie screen, but he just couldn’t shake it. This shit had been simmering for years, and it was eating him alive. Issay put down a bamboo skewer that had remnants of a roast fish on it still and interrupted him. “I’m planning a getaway at an onsen next weekend, for a change in scenery. Hit that reset button for a couple of days. Care to join me?”</p><p>“Hm?” Sakurai looked up from his glass, caught by surprise by the offer. “Yeah. Why not? It’s been ages.” He began to warm up, and smiled, finally forcing himself to discard his unhappy train of thought. “Anyone else coming along, or planning on keeping it low-key?” A bit of conversation later, he was relaxed, and laughing at stupid jokes.</p><p>A shadow passed over the table, blocking the light coming from the bar, and he looked up. A man bowing profusely apologized and offered them a business card. Press. Sakurai cringed. It said he was from a major Rock magazine. “Forgive my intrusion of your evening! I’m from "Ongaku to Hito". Such a surprise to discover two great artists with me here at the same pub, only a few tables away!” he fawned annoyingly. “If I may, I would be honored to interview you both together for an article in next month’s issue.”</p><p>He looked like he was trying to conceal his curiosity. He’d always fought for his privacy and would take interviewers on a merry chase, spouting whatever bullshit he could think of to shock and mislead them. And here he was caught, completely unguarded. It was Issay’s presence that did it, he realized a bit too late. A flash of wariness passed through him, feeling distinctly hunted, but before he could answer Issay spoke up. “What do you have in mind?”</p><p>“Oh! A new casual wine bar has opened not far from here. Though I’ve never been there myself, I’ve heard it’s very cozy from my associates. Private. They’re very discreet.” Issay looked his way, and Sakurai let him take the driver’s seat. Fuck it, if he wanted to make an adventure. Fine, whatever. “You can iron out the details with our managers.” Issay handed the music scene reporter a business card, and Sakurai realized he was expected to hand him one as well. He dug around for his card wallet, and produced a card and hoped he would leave soon.</p><p>“Thank you very much! I look forward to working with you. Please, enjoy the rest of your evening, and excuse my intrusion!” The simpering reporter smiled, bowed, and left before they could get a chance to back out. Sakurai watched him settle his bill and take off as if his ass were on fire. “A joint interview?” He raised his brow, questioning Issay.</p><p>Issay smiled. “When was the last time you’ve done a spontaneous interview without the rest of the band? Just you, being you, and nothing else?” He took a swallow of beer, contemplating him across the table.</p><p>Sakurai claimed the last roast fish, and finished it off. “Mnn. I hate reporters… they’re such a pain.”</p><p> </p><p>________________________________________</p><p>The reporter moved fast- that’s for sure: he was informed in a phone call from his agent the next morning that they were booked to reservations in a private room at the wine bar later that afternoon. Well, if he’s going to be doing vocals, it would be good publicity for the upcoming album later on, to be seen together, I guess. He still wasn’t quite sure why Issay had taken the initiative and agreed to their interview in the first place, but at least he would not be alone.</p><p>In the beginning, with Imai being the band’s founding member, Imai got the bulk of the attention. He outranked him, and he preened and basked in it. Sakurai thrived on the action too, but was satisfied unless Imai took things too far out into left field. He had a rebellious streak that couldn’t be quenched, and Imai pushed it. Once they were established, Imai found himself the surprise target of unplanned antics on stage to get even, more than once. He caught hell for it too, but god damn it, it was worth it. The fans loved it too. That was his saving grace: Imai couldn’t yell too hard after the fact, once the damage was done. Sakurai’s spontaneous tricks may have humiliated the crap out of him at times, but it helped pay the bills and kept the fans coming back for more.</p><p>Sakurai put down the book of poetry he’d been trying to read, fidgeting and unable to focus on it. He turned on the television, and flipped over the channels with the remote. A cooking show where everyone spouted a surprised “Oishi!” as if they’d discovered that the crap steaming on their plates were god’s gift to man (though it didn’t look appealing at all), a five minute news break time filler before a drama came on, a mecha-suit battle anime on WoWow, and a show about detail paint jobs on motorcycles. He turned the thing off and tossed the remote onto the sofa with disgust.</p><p>He couldn’t sit still. He had that sensation you get before something important was going to happen, but it was only an interview. He paced, then stopped to stare out the window, then looked at his wrist watch. Vocal coach lessons in an hour, then another practice session with the guys. Their next album he’d decided that he wanted to experiment more with his vocals. Get some more polish and style. He just couldn’t shake that sense of uneasiness though. Change was in the wind, big change. He could feel it.</p><p> </p><p>________________________________________</p><p>Band practice ended a few hours before the interview was scheduled. It was a casual interview, so there would be no major photo sessions, nor stylist on hand. He had to swing by his apartment to shower and change though. Imai walked with him on the way out of the sound proofed practice studio. “I heard that you have an interview later today.” Though trying to seem offhand about it, a twinge of territorial jealousy sparked in his posture. “What are you going to be discussing?”</p><p> He couldn’t believe it- he was getting crap over the interview already. “Nothing much.” Sakurai bristled.</p><p>“No talk on the future album yet- including Issay, got it? Keep it quiet.”</p><p>“Of course not.” He strode out to his car, disgusted. He had the right to do an interview if he felt like it, and didn’t need permission if it wasn’t about band projects. He had no place telling him who he was allowed to speak to in his own time, and who he wasn’t. He was fucking tired of it. He was feeling repressed again, boxed into a corner.</p><p>He went back to his apartment fuming, showered, had a quick lunch then put on a little stage makeup for polish, and got to the interview location a bit early. Issay was already there, but the reporter had not arrived yet. Good. Issay handed him a glass of wine, and he sat for a moment, then got up and paced. He just couldn’t drop the bullshit from Imai earlier. The interview was a gigantic reminder of it, and he was seething.</p><p>“Imai?” Issay asked.</p><p>“Yes, fucking Imai,” he grated out with disgust. “Don’t get me wrong- we’ve done some great work together, but there are times he gets on my nerves. He’s got this idea that if I’m given too much space, the band will loose it’s image or something. For a Punk asshole, he sure demands a lot of obedience and subservience- demands that you serve his own system outside the system. But without the band, I’d be nothing, and I had to beg my way back after leaving them in the beginning. He’s never let me forget that. I was a deserter from the Great and Holy Band, though it was under family duress, and I’ve been paying for it. But it’s been years. He’s been lording it over me all this time.” He sat down, and pushed his fingers through his hair.</p><p>“Have a drink and calm down before the reporter arrives. Don’t let him see you like this, or he’ll start poking around too close to home.” Sakurai had already beaten him to the punch though, drinking his first glass of red as if it were water. He was working on a second, then poured a third after a trip to the men’s room to offload the excess liquid before getting stuck having to pee like an idiot in the middle of the interview. He was feeling warm and toasty from all the wine by the time the reporter walked in their private room.</p><p>“Sorry for keeping you waiting.” The reporter bowed. “Not at all- you’re right on time.” Issay replied. He gestured the reporter to the seat across the table. Sakurai, his reflexes a bit slower than usual, felt himself get tugged into the bench seating against the wall next to Issay. They exchanged the usual pre-interview banter as the reporter settled in, and the candid photographer unpacked his camera from a tote bag. The wine he’d chugged so quickly hit him, and didn’t give a crap that it did, either. This was Issay’s idea anyway, he can have the interview. He continued to drink. Issay’s shoulder bumped into his as he reached for the bottle to offer a glass to the reporter. Sensual warmth echoed across his chest from the jostling. Oh yeah, he was definitely buzzed.</p><p>The interview was nearly complete, and he could barely remember it- not that he was drunk, which he was, but Issay made it so comfortable, it just felt like casual talk over the table, and he joined in. It was nothing like doing interviews with Imai. They mostly discussed the prior work they’d done together, and were questioned a bit about what their dreams were for the future- would Sakurai be working on any of his projects again? Did Issay have any new solo/side projects planned? It was safe conversation, with no prying into their personal lives or for details of their current work. Likely their managers had set down strict guidelines for what was and was not to be broached. Surprisingly, the reporter went along with it. Unless that wasn’t what their interview was about, a part of him warned.</p><p>The photographer didn’t take many photos during the interview itself, but asked them to do some shots at the end. They leaned in together closely in their bench, and Sakurai put his arm around Issay and beamed to mess with the reporter’s head. Issay was surprised, but didn’t pull away from him. The photographer took several shots of his laughing response, and of Sakurai reaching over to his glass for more wine.</p><p>He tossed back the last of his glass and put it down, but made no move to shift back in his seat and give Issay some space. Let the reporter think what he liked. It felt too good to be close to him after being so pissed at Imai. He was actually a very high contact kind of guy when his friends were comfortable with it, but Imai usually pushed him away. Issay never did. A bit of arousal swirled in his belly at the contact. He felt good. Really good. Fuck Imai. He’d give them something to look at.</p><p>Sakurai rested his head on Issay’s shoulder, smiling, just a bit flirtatious. The camera flash went off. He started to get that adrenalin rush that he always got when he was defying Imai. He could smell Issay’s crisp white shirt, which smelled like laundry starch. It was a strangely exciting thing to smell- strangely intimate. You can’t smell that kind of thing unless you’re let that close.</p><p>“Thank you very much! This has been a very pleasant afternoon. Thank you for your time, gentlemen.” The photographer packed up as the reporter bowed and made their goodbyes, and they left. It was over, at last. He felt his earlier mood threatening to return. He didn’t know how much he’d had to drink, but he’d had it so fast that he wasn’t going to be sobering up any time soon. Fuck it- he had no where else to go that evening. “Let’s get you back to your place,” Issay said while he settled the tab. Sakurai let him lead him out to a taxi, taking them the short distance back, and he unlocked his apartment door with a little bit of difficulty.</p><p>“Coffee?” Issay asked as Sakurai flopped down on the leather sofa. “No. More wine. I want to stay drunk.” A cork screw pulled out the stopper from a bottle of wine that he’d grabbed from the liquor cabinet. He poured it into two stem glasses Issay brought back from the kitchen, and lounged back. Issay sat down next to him. He was too comfortable to discuss what had happened earlier, and didn’t want to talk about it. He wanted the camaraderie they shared instead. He wanted…</p><p>He let himself tip over, and lounged against Issay’s side, and propped his feet up on the coffee table in front of them. Screw it. The power of claiming drunkeness… but he needed the human contact. He could smell Issay’s shirt again. Sakurai closed is eyes, and breathed it in, and sighed. Issay put his arm around him, and they drank in silence. He felt safe. Rarely in life did he feel safe. He trusted Issay.</p><p>Some time later he woke, needing to use the bathroom, to find that Issay had left. He’d fallen asleep snuggled into him- they’d polished off the bottle of wine they’d opened, and it sat empty on his coffee table.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They agreed upon renting out a full small onsen, for privacy. There was one that Sakurai was partial to, out in the middle of nowhere in Nagano, where they’d have no problems with the curious. The last thing he’d need would be another reporter looking for their story. Peace and quiet. They took a high speed bullet train in to the region, and rented a car after the not quite two and a half hour trip. It had been overcast and raining all day while they traveled, and it continued to drizzle as they walked in with their overnight bags.</p><p>    “Welcome! Right this way. I will show you to your rooms.” The innkeeper’s wife helped them in and took their rain coats. They hadn’t ordered adjoining rooms, but it was an older inn with traditional rice paper walls and tatami mats. They discovered that they would be sharing their meals together in a common area that was situated between their rooms. The dividing walls to their rooms were slid open since it wasn’t bed time yet, creating a large, spacious tatami room with a spectacular view. The outer wall had been opened as well, to reveal a private outdoor mineral spring bath surrounded by trees, ferns, and natural rock. A waterfall tumbled in the far corner, lit with weather worn stone lanterns.</p><p>    "I can see why you like this place,” Issay said, looking out the door to the milky watered spa. Sakurai dropped his bag in his room, then came back into the central area. “My agent found the place for me a while back when I needed some time off… it’s one of my getaways. The proprietors are very sympathetic towards the difficulties of notoriety. Here, I can be human. Nobody. For a while, at least.”</p><p>    A tap on the door, and a moment later, the proprietor’s wife entered with serving trays full of appetizers and sake. They sat at the traditional low table and dined, periodically being  interrupted with a soft tap at the door, and more trays. They ate lightly to not spoil the evening’s potential for a good soak in the spring, but the sake, a wonderful highly polished grain regional, flowed generously. Once dinner was complete, she carried away the dishes and tidied the area for them as they went off to the pre-bath bathing room.</p><p>    Upon returning, Issay’s lean, slim body was still dripping, scrubbed down for the bath. He saw that the innkeep had closed off the room partitions and taken the table away, but had left a nice stock of sake for them on a small table near the door. Just as Sakurai came out of the bathing room naked and carrying one of the small bathing towels, Issay brought the sake set to the side of the spa. He climbed into the hot hazy water, pouring the first round of sake, handing Sakurai a cup as he joined him.</p><p>    The rain had stopped for the moment, but it was still gloomy and threatening that it was going to again soon. Sakurai had put his long hair up to keep it out of the water, and it looked rather feminine- it was so long, he couldn’t just put it into a pony tail to get it out of the way, he had to put it up much like a woman would. It created a strangely attractive effect with his broad shoulders and lanky arms, highlighting his nape. Issay couldn’t look away. He was stunning. Sakurai began to hum a song that Issay didn’t recognize. He looked a thousand miles away, lost in dark thoughts. “What’s been going on with you guys this past few weeks?” he asked. Sakurai looked up from the water that he’d been staring at. “Hm?”</p><p>    "You’ve been upset, brooding again. That’s why I suggested coming here. What’s up? I know there’s something wrong.” Issay deliberately turned and waded to a spot on the other side to get some space, near the bouldered wall. He had to stop staring. He was beginning to make himself uncomfortable, and they needed to talk. Sighing, Sakurai finished the sake in his cup and went to get the bottle. “Ah, yeah. It’s work. I don’t know… I don’t know what I want. Fuck. I want to have fun with it like it used to be, and Imai changed things. He’s so god damned fixated upon looking tough and cool, the badass with his guitar, that he’s forgotten the fun that we used to have, baiting and playing with the fans.”</p><p>    "And you’d like to turn back the clock?” He put his cup down, and looked over his shoulder. Sakurai was wading towards him. Strands of his hair had come loose, and were whisping in the cool, damp, ozoney breeze. “No, not turn back the clock. I just… wish he would loosen up a bit. It’s not fun anymore.” He paused for a second, and a mischievous look sparked in his eyes. He approached and a strange tension crackled through Issay. He turned and looked at the waterfall, trying to get grounded a little bit. Come on, this is Sakurai. They’d had a lot of sake this evening and it was sneaky, stronger than it seemed at first.</p><p>    Sakurai’s voice was very close when he spoke. “I like taking risks, chances with the crowds. There’s nothing like it.” “Ah.” Issay awkwardly replied, stumbling for words. Sakurai’s warm breath suddenly brushed his neck. He could smell the sake on it as he spoke. “We used to do this fanservice routine during the bridge of “…In Heaven…”. We were known for it… drove the girls wild. They’d follow the whole damned tour from beginning to end just to see us together. Imai won’t have any part of that sort of thing now.”</p><p>    Issay shivered. Sakurai’s voice had taken on an aroused timbre. Was he even aware of it? “I want! I kiss you in heaven…” he whispered the lyrics he knew so well, from years ago, and began the choreographed  teasing display that the fans would scream over every time. The fingers of his left hand gently brushed Issay’s jaw as he stood behind him, and just like Imai would, Issay’s head tilted to the side instinctively and he offered his neck without even thinking. They trailed softly down the side of his neck, below his ear, and down to the shoulder where his hand settled. Issay’s heart pounded. “I… I… I can see why Imai doesn’t want to do this.” The first droplets of rain started fall, skittering off of the leaves in a soothing patter.</p><p>    Sakurai’s lips brushed the shell of his ear; he was still humming that old tune- he barely hear it, but he was. The loose strands of his long hair brushed Issay’s neck, and he shivered violently from the sensation… the tension between them was so high, he couldn’t fool himself into believing it was just that it had tickled.</p><p>    Lightning flashed overhead, burning their eyes for a moment. Thunder crackled and boomed a split second afterward. The sky finally opened up it’s flood gates and warm summer rain came down in earnest, beating upon the surface of the water in the spa, making it dance. Their hair was soaked instantly and rain pelted on their skin, joining the blood deep tingle of all the sake they’d had.</p><p>    Lightning struck again a little further away, but they didn’t move. They couldn’t. Sakurai’s lips were almost on his neck. Issay finally spoke. “…and you want this?” He could barely breathe.  A pause… and then Sakurai’s lips descended on his neck, and caressed their way down to his shoulder. “…the girls love it. They love to watch.”</p><p>    Issay turned to face him, and looked into his eyes. “They’re not watching now. Nobody is.”</p><p>    Confusion passed across Sakurai’s face at his words, then as their meaning sank in, horror. His eyes became saucers. They both stopped breathing. Terror filled tension mounted, and Sakurai’s eyes flickered to Issay’s lips, then back up again. They closed the gap at the same time, Issay lowering his head to meet Sakurai’s lips as Sakurai reached towards him. Lightning and thunder roared overhead. Their lips brushed delicately at first, and the clean rain water tasted of the wilderness around them as it flowed over their lips to their tongues.</p><p>    When had their tongues begun to touch? Issay couldn’t remember. All he knew was that it felt incredible. The tips of their tongues softly swept against each other, almost not touching. They were afraid of getting closer to each other. This part wasn’t in any of Sakurai’s choreography. They pulled back and stared at each other, their breathing erratic. Fear and feral lust swirled through Sakurai’s eyes. Issay’s eyes rolled back as his eyelids closed. He was swooning. He moaned and swayed, and as his heavy lidded eyes opened, his hands raised of their own accord to Sakurai’s chest.</p><p>    Sakurai’s hands slipped low around his waist, pulling Issay into him, hip to hip in the hazy gray mineral rich water. It was a natural, instinctive movement, but their eyes went wide, Sakurai turning white as a sheet as Issay blushed madly. They had fully become aware, reminded, that this was not a woman that they were with. Their hips had been concealed in the warm opaque water, but as Sakurai pulled them together, hard cock met cock, and pushed against each other. They were male. There was no denying this. “…um… we should get out of the water. I mean, lightning… uh…” Sakurai stammered.</p><p>    Issay looked away, embarrassed. “Yeah. Let’s get inside. Not safe out here.” He reached for the sake bottle and tray, and Sakurai grabbed the towel that he’d been using, and their cups to bring in. They climbed out of the water without looking at each other, tucking the sake inside the door, then grabbing their bath towels from the adjoining bathing area to dry off  before stepping into the tatami mat room.</p><p>    Sakurai stood near the center of the room paralyzed with indecision, and Issay started towards his own room when he called out to stop him.  “I uh…” Issai turned to him. The tension was so thick, it was painful. Fear, confusion, regret were a tangible force. Sakurai took a step towards him, and faltered. Issai swooned again, and then they were together.</p><p>    Mineral slick skin against skin, hot, with the scent of clay and arousal slipped against each other, Sakurai’s arms around Issay’s hips, slipping down to cup his ass and press him up against himself hard, as Issay’s arms curled upward around Sakurai’s waist and he dug his nails into his shoulder blades. Their mouths met, desperately caressing, devouring each other.</p><p>    They couldn’t separate for a moment, couldn’t pull away, and stumbled as they made their way blindly to Issay’s room. It was dimly lit by a rice paper covered lamp, and a traditional futon was set up on the floor with the covers turned back, waiting for him. Their towels, long forgotten, were in the main room on the floor as they sank into Issay’s futon.</p><p>    They kissed and kissed, tongues caressing deeply now, unlike before. Sakurai’s hands instinctively ran up Issay’s chest, but there were no breasts there to wrap his hands over. He pulled back in confusion for a second and stared Issay in the eyes. He groaned at the desire he saw reflected back, and leaned down to gently bite at Issay’s shoulder with his teeth. Issay arched up, moaning quietly with need. They couldn’t stop… couldn’t. But how… how to proceed? Neither one had expected this, nor had planned for anything. It wasn’t your typical onsen trip with a buddy, that was for certain.</p><p>    The problem was solved for them unintentionally- their bodies just wouldn’t stop. They kissed, rolling onto their sides, stroking each other’s backs, arms, chests… their legs tangled, and after a quick nipping kiss from Sakurai, Issai got on top of him and pinned his arms back, hand in hand at shoulder height. They started grinding into each other, cock against cock, rocking their hips, gyrating, rocking…</p><p>    Issay felt Sakurai’s hands clench and heard him cry out moments before his own orgasm welled up, wracking his body with tremors of release. He fell onto his elbows and his head landed on Sakurai’s shoulder, temple against his ear. As their breath slowed from it’s labored panting, he slumped over into his arms. He could smell the dampness of Sakurai’s rain soaked hair. Issay smoothed the tangled strands that clung to the side of Sakurai’s face, then rolled over. They spooned together, Sakurai nuzzling his neck and gently moaning from pleasure.</p><p> </p><p>______________________________________</p><p> </p><p>Sakurai didn’t want to leave the comfort of the futon, but he had to. Issay looked at him questioningly as he got up. “…bathroom.” He found one of the yukata that the onsen supplied for guests to use, and walked down the hall to the bathroom, stopping to put on a pair of slippers at the door.</p><p>    He relieved himself, and when he was done, he cleaned his stomach and chest off with toilet paper. He was covered in cum. Half drowsed, he thought- If it’s a mess when one man jerks off, it’s even worse when there’s the leftovers from two of them. That woke him up. The blood rushed from his face, and he quickly tossed the soggy toilet paper into the toilet and flushed it.</p><p>    Finding a wash cloth, he soaped it up a bit and washed himself, then rinsed the cloth out and grabbed a towel to dry off. The cum had started to dry on his skin and get scratchy and flaky. He’d been trying not to think and had been avoiding the mirror, but when he hung the towel on the bar, he finally looked at himself. He was ashen. What just… what did I just do?? That was… what just happened? That wasn’t sex, right? It’s not like my cock was up his ass or anything, right? That was just getting carried away. A strange fluke. An accident. He stared at himself in the mirror with his hand covering his mouth in shock.</p><p>    A quiet knock startled him out of his reverie, and he turned and opened the door. “My turn.” Issay was wearing one of the onsen’s yukata, identical to the one that he had on. He stood back out of the way as Sakurai left the bathroom, then went in and closed the door behind himself. The hallway darkened once again. Sakurai returned to the commons room and after a thought went to his own room, took off his yukata and climbed into his own futon, feeling a bit like a heel deserting a quick lay he’d scored with. He tried to put it out of his mind and rolled over, turning his back to the door.</p><p>    He heard the commons door gently open and slide shut a few minutes later. The soft pad pad of Issay’s bare feet on the tatami mat was almost inaudible as he approached and stopped at his door. He dared not roll over to look… he could barely breathe. An awkward minute or two passed that felt like forever, then Issay’s feet padded over to the futon. Excruciating silence. Sakurai finally looked over his shoulder. “I uh… it would look strange if my bed wasn’t slept in…” he started,  but Issay interrupted. “Move over.” Sakurai’s heart thudded, but he did as he was requested.</p><p>    He heard Issay’s yukata sash untie and slip to the floor, then felt a cool rush of air as he lifted the blankets to get into the futon behind him. This is not happening. It’s not real. I’m asleep. I’m imagining all of this- it’s just a strange dream. I don’t get it on with men. I don’t swing that way. I’m a regular dude, and I like chicks. He couldn’t convince himself. We were drunk. It was just the alcohol, he tried on. Yeah, that fit better. Felt more honest. It was just an accident from too much sake and nothing really happened because nobody got fucked up the ass, so it can’t be really gay.</p><p>     Issay spooned up to him, wrapping his arm around his waist, and tugged Sakurai up against him. He melted into him, pressing himself against Issay from top to toe, and instantly his body was on fire again. Must fuck… must fuck now! Oh my god I need to fuck! He moaned with need and writhed against him, and he felt Issay’s mostly hard cock growing against his back. Issay’s hand caressed his belly and chest and Sakurai gasped, whimpering and grinding his hips as his own cock became rock hard.</p><p>    Was it so intense because it was scary, forbidden? Because they could get caught, and possibly destroy their reputations and careers? He never really considered fucking around with another man before, never really had any great draw to do so, so why was this so agonizingly impossible to pull away from now? He didn’t care… he was loosing his mind with need, and had to face it: this is Issay. Not some girl he chose from the front row, it was his buddy, Issay. It occurred to him then: for all their energy, neither one of them had summoned the courage to actually touch the other’s cock yet.</p><p>    Suddenly, he really, really needed to touch Issay’s cock. He froze with terror at the urge, and started to tremble. Issay kissed the right side of his neck. Tears came to his eyes… he needed this so badly, but it horrified him at the same time. He whimpered and his back stiffened but Issay’s hands kept moving, sweeping across his torso, grazing over his nipples. Sakurai’s head spun. He was in a near faint, but Issay’s hands kept caressing over him, on and on in those heated arcs… over his belly, down, down, over the fine trail of hair, lower… and finally, finally wrapped around his cock at the base, with his fingers spread out gently over his balls.</p><p>    Sakurai swooned, arched his back, thrust his hips forward and cried out a broken cry of need. Issay’s hand pet and stroked his cock, his balls gently. It felt so right. He turned over to face him and touched Issay’s chest tentatively. His eyes were hazed over with desire. He’d never seen Issay this way, before this night. It was beautiful, the soft, longing expression that had taken over his face, his guard completely down. There was trust there, trust that allowed him to bare his need.</p><p>    Sakurai began to trail his fingers down Issay’s body. No artfulness there… just gliding down, stopping nervously for a brief moment before cupping Issay’s balls with his left hand, and stroking the head of his cock with the knuckles of his right. Issay’s head fell backward, and he moaned softly. Desire flushed through Sakurai like a hot breeze, and his mouth ached, watered. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, and tried to breathe. He knew what he wanted to do, and it scared the fuck out of him. Sakurai’s eyes closed, and his body heaved as if he were laboring for breath,  but in fact he was barely breathing at all. And then he did it. He did what he craved to do.</p><p>    Sakurai shifted to put a little distance between them, while still remaining on their sides facing each other. Issay felt the movement, and their eyes met. Sakurai licked his upper lip nervously, clenched his teeth, and blinked back tears. As he shifted further in the bed, it became clear where he was headed. His lips parted, and a cry came out of him moments before his mouth opened further and took Issay’s cock inside. He had to.</p><p>    Tears rolled down his face, and his tongue moved across the underside of Issay’s cock as if he were kissing him deeply on the mouth. Stroking, pressing the tip of his tongue against it, drawing it along. The slickness of pre-cum  started to flow in his saliva, and he could feel the thicker viscosity of it. He pulled back, taking Issay’s cock out of his mouth, grasping it around the base with his hand. More pre-cum had already appeared, and was dripping a shiny thread down to his hand. He licked it, but started to become anxious again. I am not going to swallow. I can’t blow him to the end. I… no.</p><p>    He pulled away, blushing at the realization of what he’d just been doing of his own volition. Issay looked in awe. He reached out with both hands to touch Sakurai’s face, and then tugged him back up to level with him and kissed him. Sakurai felt like he was floating.</p><p>    Issay’s hand closed around his cock again, and Sakurai knew it was time for them to come. He grasped Issay’s cock with his own hand, and together they started stroking, continuing to kiss. Their tongues caressed each other in time with their hands, and their breath became shallow panting. “Ah, ah… ahh… oh yes… ahh… oh fuck… this is so… oh… fuck this is so incredible…” Sakurai said just at the edge of becoming completely incoherent, then cried out, coming hard and gasping.</p><p>    Issay’s teeth clenched hard, and he growled obscenities that flowed so violently it was almost impossible to understand, and then his orgasm struck. He seized and shook, and semen shot past Sakurai’s thumb and onto his stomach. Sakurai swirled his hands over Issay, through the hot, wet, slippery ejaculate.</p><p>    They stayed on their sides, and their foreheads touched as they fell asleep from exhaustion, sharing the same pillow.</p><p> </p><p>____________________________________</p><p> </p><p>Morning sunlight filtered into the tatami room through the windows, warming Sakurai’s face. He grunted, and tried to roll over to get the light out of his eyes and sleep a bit longer, to find Issay just waking next to him. He blushed as the memory of their night time activities came rushing back, and he stammered awkwardly. “We uh… should get up and moving before breakfast gets here.” “Oh. Yeah.” Issay responded, and looked embarrassed. The birds were chirping in a din, announcing that it was morning.</p><p>    A shower and shave later, Issay answered the commons door. Sakurai was still dressing in his room as salad, tea, fish, rice and other assorted traditional breakfast fare was set out for them on the table in the middle of the room. He lingered in his room until she left.</p><p>    Sunlight came in through the open rice paper wall that faced the outdoor bath. A bird that was standing on one of the boulders outside flew off, frightened off by the sound of his bedroom door sliding open. Sakurai sat down at the table and inhaled the morning air deeply- so different from Tokyo’s- and relaxed a little bit, in spite of himself. “Itetakimasu,” Issay said quietly, and picked up the tea pot to pour tea into Sakurai’s cup, and then his own.</p><p>     “Itetakimasu.” Sakurai accepted the cup from him and tasted the hot tea, and picked at his plate. The strange dissonance between the tranquil beauty of their surroundings and the awkward stress of their situation made him barely able to eat, though after their night, he was starving. Now what? What do you say in a situation like this? ‘Say- I don’t normally fuck men, but you were great last night! Pass the soy sauce, please.’ It just didn’t work… and it got worse as he sat and struggled with it. Issay broke the silence. “Uh ah… well.”</p><p>    “Yeah.” Sakurai flicked a glance up from his dish for a moment, but couldn’t look up for long. The bird he startled when he had left his bedroom returned to the yard and sang at the top of it’s lungs, making it that more surreal at the table. He took a deep breath, sighed, and sat back, finally looking at Issay. “Well… now what? What the hell was that, I mean… what was that?"</p><p>    “We had sex.” Issay said bluntly. He was almost expressionless, but his awkwardness began to shift into frustrated impatience. Sakurai’s ability to handle the stress broke. He jumped up from the table, and started to pace back and forth, raking his hand through his hair. “Fuck!”  He looked around as if looking for an escape route or an answer to the situation hidden in the tatami mat weave. “This can’t be happening. I’m not gay. I’m not! I…” He rubbed his eyes, then slid his hand down to his nose and pinched it shut; realized what he was doing, and dropped his hand, releasing his breath and sighed. “Nobody can know about this. Fuck. What about the band? Fuck! If this ever got out, Imai would kill me. I’m not gay. I’m not gay! I don’t want to be gay.”</p><p>    “Thanks a lot.” Issay said darkly. Sakurai stopped pacing and looked up at him. “I… I’m sorry. You’re right. That was shit.” He stood blinking, and raked his hand through his hair again, then went back to the table and sat. He gulped down his tea, which had become tepid in the cup. “I never thought… never expected…” he paused, searching for words. “This is something that I’ve never really thought about… I mean, beyond the fan service thing, which is just fucking around on stage. I…” He exhaled loudly.</p><p>    Issay sat and listened to Sakurai’s ramblings, unsure of even what he would say himself. He hadn’t eaten much yet, and realized he was famished, so he loaded his plate and began to eat. “OK. I uh… ahh fuck. I keep on going back to the fact that we were drunk when we did it, telling myself that it was just a case of the drunken hornies…” he blinked, and his jaw worked. Licking his lips, he continued. “…but we fucked twice. And we weren’t drinking the second time.” There. He said it.</p><p>    Issay pulled his knees up, folding his arms around them and hunched his back, looking out over the spa where it had started. “I’ve never done anything like this either. Yeah, OK, I’ve kissed band members at after show parties before, to turn the girls on that are watching, and it was fun, but I wasn’t really focused on the fact that I was kissing a dude, you know? It wasn’t about that. So yeah. I’m not gay either.”</p><p>    “So what do we do? Can we pretend that this never happened and just go on, never mentioning it or going any further again?” Sakurai contemplated his words. Do I want it to happen again? Was that it? He stood up, and sauntered out to the spa, carrying his tea cup with him. Jumping up on top of one of the bigger boulders, he sat down and gazed at the water. Issay stood from the breakfast table and went to the doorway. The light was dazzling and too bright on the water after being inside.</p><p>    “Fuck. A piece of me wants to take off- to get up and leave this place as fast as I can, running… but the other half… I am not ready to see anyone right now.” He looked at Issay, and a sense of their old camaraderie came back. Issay sighed, then went to the bathing area. He was naked and damp when he returned. He lowered himself into the hot spring, the water up to his shoulders.</p><p>    Tracing with his finger the texture of the rock he was on, Sakurai sat and thought about the situation. He wasn’t sure what he wanted. No, that wasn’t entirely true. He knew that he didn’t want to loose his friendship with Issay. And Issay was right. He was grateful that Issay had gone back into the spring, instead of returning to his room to pack. If they left this moment, their friendship would most likely be permanently damaged beyond repair.</p><p>    At that thought, he got up and bathed, then carefully stepped into the hot spring’s water. They soaked in companionable silence. Sakurai lifted his hand out of the water and looked at his fingertips. They were getting wrinkled from the water. They’d been in it for a while. He came to a resolution. “Alright. How ‘bout we do this- we’ve got this place booked until tomorrow evening. H…” his voice broke, and he closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before continuing. “H… ah… I think we should stay. Let our heads process this a little, while it’s safe to do so in privacy.”</p><p>    “And if something should happen?” Issay questioned. Sakurai lowered his head, and swished his hand in the water. “…and if something should happen, then it happens. We’ll just have to deal with it.” Issay waded over to him, and sat on the rock shelf nearby. “…and if it does, there’s something we both need to keep in mind: that doesn’t mean that we have to continue this outside the onsen, if it’s just been a passing experiment… a phase. Whimsy.”</p><p>    Relief flooded Sakurai, and his held breath came out in a gust. He hadn’t even realized that he’d been holding his breath to that point. He sighed a laugh, and looked at his friend. “Thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>____________________</p><p> </p><p>    They returned at dinner time from a hike on a trail nearby. The onsen had provided them with bento for lunch, and having not much else around in their isolation, suggested that they explore the woodland nearby, taking the walking path that spiritual pilgrims used for their journeys from temple to temple in the region. It was beautiful, and gave them some time to reset with physical activity, get out of their thoughts a bit.</p><p>    Dinner was a local specialty- hand crafted soba, and they ate like they hadn’t eaten in days. Desert was a classic sweet red bean and mochi soup, comfort food. They were too full to go into the water, but took their sake out to the edge and soaked their feet. Issay poured sake into both of their cups, and sighed. “I could get used to this,” gesturing with his cup. Sakurai smiled.</p><p>    Issay had been smiling, but when he saw Sakurai’s relaxed, familiar smile, his eyes locked onto his mouth and he stopped smiling. His heart pounded. There it was- that fast, the tension was back. He broke eye contact, swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, then breathed a deep breath and looked down at his sake cup, swishing his feet in the water.</p><p>    Sakurai’s long hair brushing into his arm tickled. He felt warm breath on the side of his face, and turned. They stared into each other’s eyes, barely breathing. His eyes explored Sakurai’s face. There was longing there. Sakurai closed the space between them, and gently kissed his lips, then pulled back.</p><p>    Heady desire began to flood Issay. “This is… this is really going to happen.” His breathing had grown shallow, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.</p><p>    Sakurai groaned with need. “Shut up.”</p><p>    And Sakurai was kissing him again. His tongue tip caressed Issay’s lips, starting on the lower one, in tiny, delicate kitten licks. Issay’s hand slipped to the back of Sakurai’s neck to pull him closer. Sakurai’s empty sake cup slipped out of his hand and clicked onto the rock at the side of the spring, falling over.</p><p>    Issay touched Sakurai’s jaw, which the stubble was beginning to grow back on. As his fingers explored, he wondered at the strange sensation of feeling that prickle so intimately on another man. His other hand plunged into the soft, warm strands of Sakurai’s hair at the nape of his neck, and they laid back onto the rock. Last night, Sakurai’s hair had been pinned up to keep it out of the spring’s water, but this evening since they weren’t bathing, it was without restriction. His hair fell like a long silky curtain around Issay, carrying his scent as he propped himself up on his hands. Issay nuzzled into his hair, feeling it on his face.</p><p>    Sakurai leaned in, bending at the elbows, kissed Issay’s upper lip, sucking it for a second, then straightened back to look at him. The rock beneath them smelled chalky, earthy, mineral rich, a scent that Issay knew he would now associate with Sakurai. Issay stroked his lip with a thumb. Sakurai gasped and was lost to it, darting his tongue out to taste it suggestively, his eyes hazed over and heavy lidded.</p><p>    “I want you.” The words were whispered from Issay before he thought about it. They both froze. Sakurai sat back onto his heels. Just as Issay was going to apologize in horror, ferocious need wracked Sakurai. His eyes went wild, and he bared his teeth with feral lust. He stood up and tugged Issay’s hand, for him to follow.</p><p>    Issay stood, and Sakurai led him into his room, their fingers interlocked. Sakurai was trembling with lust- Issay could feel it through his hand. He couldn’t stop if he had wanted to. They stood next to the futon, and Sakurai pulled off Issay’s shirt. He kissed his chest and ran his hands over his ribcage, waist… then unbuttoned the fly on his jeans and let them slip down.</p><p>    Issay stepped out of his jeans, and kicked them out of the way. His briefs were stretched with the pressure of his erection. Sakurai cupped it through the knit, and Issay gasped. He quickly helped Sakurai out of his clothing, leaving only his briefs as well. Sakurai passed his hands over Issay’s hips to his ass, pulling him against him. Issay moaned and their mouths met. Their kisses were deep, passionate, and became violent. Issay felt like Sakurai wanted to consume him whole.</p><p>    And that is exactly what he wanted, he realized. He swooned with the need that washed over him- a need to be passive, to be taken, ravished by Sakurai. He’d never felt this feeling before. It was overwhelming, and desperate. He sank to his knees on the futon, holding his hand out to Sakurai, and pulling him close. Sakurai loomed dominantly, looking down at him, and stroked Issay’s lip, then passed his hand around to caress his nape.</p><p>    He knew what Sakurai wanted. Issay pulled down Sakurai’s briefs, and Sakurai tugged him with the hand that was on his nape. “Suck me.”</p><p>    Issay moaned and took him deep, all the way to the base of it. Wrapping his hands around Sakurai’s hips he found a thrusting rhythm sucking, withdrawing, then taking him back into the depths of his mouth. His angular face became even more gaunt, severe as he sucked and sucked. Sakurai got harder, and said “…slow down.” Issay paused to let him come down from the precipice, then continued his oral stimulation by rocking the center of his tongue on the underside of Sakurai’s cock, from side to side while tickling him near the base of it with the tip of his tongue. Sakurai moaned, and his knees started to buckle beneath him.</p><p>    “Oh god. Oh… so… so good.” He reluctantly pulled away from Issay’s mouth, and pushed him onto the futon, on his back. Issay reached for his hips, but Sakurai deflected him. He took the case off of one of the pillows, and tied it around Issay’s wrists over his head, then straddled his hips and brought his cock close to his own. His hand enclosed them both, and began to stroke. Yes, he was going to come from it… but he saw what his intent was. Sakurai was going to deliberately come on him, while his hands were tied over his head and he could do nothing about it. The thought excited him more than he’d thought possible.</p><p>    Sakurai stared at Issay beneath him, and at their cocks as he stroked. Issay tried to stay still but he couldn’t, and thrust to meet Sakurai’s strokes, fighting to fuck Sakurai’s hand and rub against his cock. It was difficult with his hands tied over his head though, and he rocked and struggled with it, desperate to fuck. So close… so fucking close…</p><p> </p><p>    …then Sakurai stopped. He dropped his hand, and watched Issay pant and his body heave, thrusting up, but there was no one, nothing to fuck. He’d been on the brink of orgasm. Tears came to his eyes. He’d been so close to coming, just another few strokes, another few thrusts was all he needed, but Sakurai stopped. He touched Issay’s cock with a single fingertip, rubbing the slit opening at the tip in circles as the pre-cum welled up. Issay thrust to try to get more contact, but Sakurai pulled his hand away from his cock, and moved to his balls, fondling him with barely perceptible touches.</p><p>    The sense of urgency to climax faded slowly under the torment. Sakurai watched him cool off, then he began to stroke their cocks together again. Issay was having trouble being quiet. His tormentor had an advantage over him that he’d never experienced before: he too was male. He knew what it felt like, and what could drive him mad.</p><p>    Sakurai’s eyes became teary narrow pools of black inkiness, as if lust had consumed them. His face was darkened, transformed with the ferocity of aggressive desire he felt. He was nearly unrecognizable.</p><p>    “Please… please… take me,” Issay begged. At odds with his need to thrust and still tied, he ended up writhing with his back arched, his neck strained, hands behind it with the twisted pillow case biting into his wrists. He cried. “Please!”</p><p>    Sakurai bared his teeth and his face twitched with the violence of emotion that passed through him, then started to thrust so hard, his voice barked out with the effort of it. His orgasm covered Issay in bursts that seemed like they would never stop, hot heavy rain drops. Issay arched his back and came instantly, crying, then collapsed.</p><p>    He vaguely felt Sakurai’s hands untying his, then he was slumping over him. They were covered in sweat and cum, slick with it. Issay moaned softly and tried to move his head, and could barely do so.</p><p>    Sakurai got up and put on his onsen yukata. He returned with glasses of water and a damp cloth. Putting the water down, he cleaned Issay with the cloth. Once done, he helped Issay drink. Issay was incapable of holding it, and could barely sit up. Exhausted.</p><p>    “Are you OK?” he asked, gently combing Issay’s damp hair back with his fingers.</p><p>    “Mmmnh… oh…” he could barely keep his eyes open. “I’m… mnh… oh… that… that was… oh…”</p><p>     “Rest for a few minutes, then when you’ve got your bearings a bit, we’ll go clean ourselves up. Maybe go soak for a bit in the spring.” Sakurai laughed. “We’re going to need it, or we’ll be stiff in the morning after that.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They returned to Tokyo the next afternoon, napping on the train, exhausted. Issay wasn’t sure which was more exhausting though- the actual sex, or the explosive tension that led up to it. They parted ways at the subway to their respective neighborhoods.</p><p>    Issay thought about the weekend that he’d spent with Sakurai. He’d fucked his friend. He couldn’t believe it. Then he caught himself- yes, yes he could believe it. They’d always had a pleasant chemistry together, particularly when they’d been drinking and their guards were down- the real proof of who they were. He opened up a tin of coffee beans that he had stashed in the fridge, and carefully poured them into the grinder, mulling over the possibilities.</p><p>    He knew that they wouldn’t be pursuing anything serious together- that much was for certain… but… he had to admit, it was good. It spooked him how good it had been. Will they be able to act as if nothing had happened? Was that even necessary? Issay poured coffee into his cup, and walked into the living room of his apartment and sat on the sofa.</p><p>    There was time before the tour was scheduled- somehow, he found himself in the awkward situation of being invited to tour with the band in a moment of bon ami that he would have been a heel to try to evade. And Sakurai… though his panic attack had been terribly self-centered, there was a bit of validity to it. All the same, if it ever became public knowledge, a good publicist could always tweak reality and make it appear as a publicity stunt. There are always work arounds… but it still could impact each of their lives from the inside, especially Sakurai’s. Issay had bounced from project to project, but BUCK-TICK was solid, and showed signs of not slowing down any time soon even though they were no longer a youth band.</p><p>    It got him thinking about Sakurai’s relationship with Imai. He’d known them both for a long time, and there was always something there between them. He’d never been sure if it was just creative tension though- they clearly were at odds, and used it to spark projects along. Their pranks (Imai’s off stage, Sakurai’s on stage) were clearly dominance games. Sakurai often lashed out in humiliating ways when he didn’t get his own way and Imai had pulled rank on him. It ranged from schoolboy pranks to intimacies that were borderline passes at him.</p><p>    Issay had felt the difference that last time at the onsen, too. It was like the ghost presence of Imai was there with Sakurai, instead of himself. It had scared him a lot more than the previous two romps had. Could he even talk with him about it? One thing was for certain: there was no changing his professional relationship with Imai- Imai would not allow it, and Sakurai was just enough concerned for not damaging the other guys employment that he wouldn’t rock that particular boat.</p><p>     For a rebellious lone wolf, he could be very clingy and afraid of change, too. Issay had a feeling that he’d been starved for affection while growing up. You could feel it.<br/>____________________________</p><p> </p><p>I’m fine. I am. Nothing happened. I’m a regular guy, doing regular guy things.</p><p>    Sakurai had flown into a frenzy of trying to keep himself busy, from the moment he’d returned from the onsen. Clubbing, bars, dining- anything that could keep him too busy to think when he wasn’t actually busy finalizing work on their new album, which was time consuming as well.</p><p>    The first thing he did, however, was drastic: he cut his hair off. It had become irritating to take care of, and worse, it made him feel effeminate. He’d been slammed with so many jabs in interviews since he’d grown it out… interviewers loved to try to find anything that they could grab at that could potentially crack your facade, and they would go after his hair because it was an obvious one. It was stupid too, considering the history Japan had with men having long hair traditionally, but they did it. It was like being buzzed by gnats, and he was tired of it. At least, that is what he convinced himself.</p><p>    He didn’t go into it with the guys either, when they greeted him with stunned expressions. “It was a pain,” was all he said. He insisted on going with simple western clothing for stage and appearances too. A bow tie and tux shirt, tux pants, suspenders. I’m a man. I’m a man, damn it.</p><p>    He’d been much too busy to see Issay. That’s what he also had been telling himself. He’d avoided him in the studio when he’d laid down the backup vocal track for the song, and was conveniently busy when the guys celebrated the completion of it’s recording at a local restaurant. He had no idea what to do.</p><p>    He almost choked when he was told that Issay had been asked to tour with them. Would that have even happened if he’d been there at dinner that night with the rest of them? Sakurai sighed. Likely. He was fucked that way, in life. He’d just wished that they hadn’t sprung it on him in the green room while waiting to go out for a promo appearance on Music Station. He was fuming as they stepped out there, and it showed. He didn’t even need to watch the broadcast footage to know that it did. He was fortunate that the world expected a broody, dark, unreachable vocalist out of him. That is exactly what they got.</p><p>    S&amp;M clubs with live floor performances,  fetish clubs, massages. He’d filled his days with it. See? Women. They’re still a turn-on. OK, I’ll drown myself in this. It’s easier than the complication of picking up a girl at a bar or club for a quick romp, but still proved he was straight, so he felt. He couldn’t avoid Issay forever, though. It could get ugly if they went out on tour with this hanging over their heads, unaddressed. But how?</p><p>    He couldn’t have him over at his place- talk about awkward. He didn’t want to think about the potential outcomes of that happening, but his mind kept flooding him with disturbing porno flicks of them wining and dining at his place, fucking like rabbits in heat half way through desert.  What freaked him also was that it wasn’t an altogether impossibility now. No, best to avoid that scenario from ever having a chance to manifest.</p><p>His mind, much to his chagrin, began to fixate upon it. A simple habitual jerk off in the shower took on disturbing tones as he tried to keep Issay out of his fantasies. Barely a couple of months ago, he was just dreaming of the fans screaming. OK, correction: he was dreaming of the fans screaming, and avoiding contemplation of the fact that they were screaming because he was cuddling up to Imai.</p><p>Now he would start to conjure up images of the audience going wild, but they were going mad because Issay had somehow teleported in and was blowing him off to glory in front of them. Not sure exactly how the fans adored watching that kind of action- in reality, likely most would have been horrified- but they sure did love it as he jacked off. They returned daily for the show, in fact. It got to the point that he could not come without it.</p><p>    This has to stop. He threw his shampoo bottle in scared frustration. Clear ooze splattered across the paint, and down into the floorboard heater, filling the room with an overbearing stench of masculine soap fragrance. Great. That’s going to be a bitch to clean up now, too.<br/>____________________________</p><p> </p><p>He took a deep breath, and picked up the phone, dialing Issay’s number. He hadn’t been home the first time he tried, but this time his friend picked up. “Hi. It’s me. Sakurai. I… we… we need to talk. Before the tour, I mean.” He started to ramble, and cut himself short, feeling like an idiot.</p><p>    There was a moment of silence on the line, then Issay responded. “Ah. So uh… where do we do it?” and caught himself in the slip. “Er… where should we meet?”</p><p>    Sakurai turned beet red, and was grateful that he was on the telephone where Issay couldn’t see it. He was glad though that they were still on speaking terms. He’d been afraid that had been lost. “I’m not sure. I’ve been meaning to call for a while now, but… it doesn’t feel safe to go to a restaurant or a public place like that. This is personal.”</p><p>    “Yeah.” Issay agreed with a sigh. “It can’t be helped. Come over to my place in an hour. I’ll see you there.” Dead silence, then the tone started to inform Sakurai of the obvious: that Issay had ended the conversation. He hung up the phone slowly, and laid back on the bed where he’d been sitting. He rubbed his face, and thought about the evening.</p><p>Shit. He was going to see Issay again, at last. What are we going to talk about? He panicked. They were going to talk about the onsen, is what they were going to talk about. Face it. His head spun. “AGH!” He sat up and started wandering, freaking out and going in every direction on useless tasks, stopping himself, and launching upon another pointless flailing. Get a grip.</p><p>    He dashed to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, then started fluffing his hair when he realized what he was doing: preening himself up before leaving. He stopped and leaned his hands on the edge of the sink, breathing deeply until he started to hyperventilate. He looked in the mirror, and saw his reflection was haunted… but there was a trace of excitement there too.</p><p>I’ve got to get out of here, he thought. He stuffed his wallet into his pocket, tossed on his sneakers and bolted out the door. There was still a bit of time before he was supposed to arrive, so he ended up getting a bottle of shochu and some rice cracker munchies to bring over.</p><p> </p><p>______________________________________</p><p> </p><p>Sakurai rang the bell, and was buzzed into the building where Issay’s apartment was. God, he was so nervous. What did he want? It would be so easy to just go up there and fuck the living daylights out of Issay, and frankly, Issay most likely would have little problem with that. With a start, Sakurai realized more than Issay being willing, he was. He wouldn’t have been contemplating it otherwise. Not that Issay was easy, it was just… that good. A piece of himself still wanted to fuck Issay, too. He hadn’t gotten it out of his system like he’d hoped. Was he in love with him? No, but sometimes it just works. This was one of those times.</p><p>    Still, he needed to deal with the demon that was looming on the horizon, threatening to destroy their careers in a very public way: the tour. How could they hide what had happened between them? One look at his face, and at minimum, his friends would know. He had a terrible poker face- the bane of his existence.</p><p>    Issay was safe though. He would never play games with him, or go to the tabloids, or try to get him to marry him under duress. So many of the women he’d met were like that. Birth control? Oh yeah, not a problem- I’m good. And discover later that you were completely unprotected. Allowing women around without his friends watching his back while drunk and out on the town was a recipe for such a disaster. But with Issay… all of that was averted. He rather liked that.</p><p>    The apartment door swung open and Issay let him in. His gut gave a lurch when he saw him, and he was a little intimidated by it. Now is not the time to go all schoolgirl on him. It was still a secret thrill though. He handed him the shochu and bag of munchies, and Issay looked grateful for the excuse to head to his kitchen and grab a bowl. Tension had started to build between them, and they hadn’t spoken a word yet. They had to talk.</p><p>    Issay came back into the living room and put a bowl full of the seaweed rice crackers on the low coffee table, and Sakurai chose to sit on the floor on the other side. A little space, a little distance, and keep things casual- order of the day. We can do this, he thought, steeling himself with a deep breath.</p><p>    Small shot glasses clunked onto the worn wooden table, and Issay sat in the middle of the fold-out couch. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and poured out a couple of shots. Sakurai reached for a handful of the shiny glazed crackers and crunched, then knocked back the shot. Issay tossed his back, then quickly refilled their glasses. The hard hitting shochu started to relax them a bit from the crackling sexual tension. Sakurai tossed crackers into the air one by one, to catch them in his mouth. It was starting to feel like old times again.</p><p>    “How have you been?</p><p>    Another round of shots were poured. Issay laughed. “How the fuck do you think I’ve been?” he shook his head. “I’ve been a wreck.”</p><p>    Sakurai missed one of his crackers, and it bounced off of him and skittered across the wood parquet flooring. Feeling like an idiot, he grabbed it and put it near the bowl on the table, reminding himself to throw it away later when he got up. He smiled wearily. “Yep. Same here. Been to every club within a 10 kilometer radius- at least, all good ones. Barely slept, and didn’t want to think about a thing.” He put down his glass, and prodded the floor cracker, playing a solitary game of checkers with it on the table. “Pretending nothing happened doesn’t work very well.”</p><p>    Issay stared at the shochu bottle for a moment, then decided to go with it. Old springs creaked in the couch as he leaned forward, and shochu splashed into the glass. He offered Sakurai another shot as an afterthought, and poured, but Sakurai didn’t pick it up. The glass bottle quietly thudded back to the table top. A small antique clock on the book shelf across the room ticked in the silence.</p><p>    “So. I’m going to be blunt with this, since I’ve got enough of this shit in my veins.” Issay said with humor. “This is how I see it. Right now, we’re pretty damned fucked. The guys have invited me on the tour with you, and there’s no way to get out of it. It’d be rather fun, too… except that we’ve got this freaky little sex issue in the background that the others aren’t aware of, that is going to make it awkward as hell. Shit. I don’t know about you, but even now I’m finding it difficult to not make a pass at you.”</p><p>    Shochu burned Sakurai’s sinuses as it tried to shoot out his nose with a snorting laugh. “Yeah, that’s blunt, alright.” They laughed as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. Awkward, but at least they were dealing with it better than he thought they were going to. He sniffed hard, flaring his nostrils, trying to recover from the alcohol’s burn. “Fuck, my nose! Agh.” Silence descended again.</p><p>    “There is one other thing though… that is critical in our decisions here. It’s… about that last time.”</p><p>    “OK?” Sakurai felt a pang of nerves at that.</p><p>    “What happened between us that last time…” Issay paused, fiddling with a seaweed wrapped cracker stick, spinning it on end, on the table as if it were a screw, drilling into the surface. “What happened… that is going to be the real point that will make or break our working together safely or not.”</p><p>    Sakurai didn’t quite follow where his friend was suggesting. He looked at him with his brows knit, then on self-preservation instinct drank the shot that had been waiting for him on the table, in one go. He was offered more, but he held up his hand and begged off.</p><p>    “It’s about you and Imai. This… most of it anyway, it always has been about Imai. Not me.”</p><p>    “What do you mean? That I want to do Imai?” Sakurai knew that wasn’t it at all, but he was buying time. He didn’t want to face the too personal truth that his friend was going to present to him with.</p><p>    “No. It’s about the power balance in your relationship. You’ve been taking out your work frustrations with me sexually, rather than doing something about it with Imai. It’s about creative control. You’re both very willful, and Imai, face it- he outranks you. Thing is though, he’s always known that you’ve got very important things to contribute… he just doesn’t want to let you see that vulnerability, how much value you truly have to him, for the band. As soon as that becomes obvious, he’s lost control.”</p><p>    Sakurai was stunned. He’d never really thought of it in those terms before. He’d always been so frustrated with it. Yeah, what Issay was saying was making a lot of sense.</p><p>    “So you think that’s what this has been all about?”</p><p>    Issay looked at him. “Partially.” He poured another round of shochu. Sakurai gazed at him across the table, and the vibe between them began to change. He sipped slowly in the silence, and really started to become aware of how aroused he was. They were just plain good together, he admitted it to himself. His cock started to tingle, threatening to make a liar out of him. It was more than good, and it’d been weeks since they’d fucked.</p><p>    Issay got up and walked around the coffee table, sitting next to him on the floor, and his heart pounded in his chest at his approach. His body ached from resisting Issay since he’d arrived at his apartment… but now, he’d been given the green light, and oh god, he wanted him. Sakurai took a mouthful from his shot glass and pushed him gently onto his back with the other hand. Putting his hand behind Issay’s neck, their lips met and warmed, volatile shochu flooded into Issay’s mouth. Their tongues met and battled wildly in the alcohol’s fiery heat, causing a bit of it to spill from Issay’s mouth and into his hair. Sakurai pulled back and licked the shochu trail from his cheek, down to the tender spot on Issay’s neck, just beneath his ear.</p><p>    Issay trembled, and slipped his hand under Sakurai’s shirt hem. “I think we’re starting to make a habit of this.” His hand slid over Sakurai’s ribcage, and Sakurai moaned and gave a laughing gasp of pleasure.</p><p>    Sakurai lowered his head for another kiss. He could feel Issay’s cock swelling against his jeans, and rolled his hips against it. “God, I’ve missed this. I hate to say it, but it’s true.”</p><p>    Issay growled in response. His kisses became fast and desperate. A warning flash of arousal shot through Sakurai, warning him to cool off, slow down or this was going to be one hell of a fast ride for both of them. He pulled off of Issay and took a deep breath, releasing it to calm himself a bit. He licked his lips. “Bedroom?”</p><p>    He offered Issay a hand, and tugged him up off of the floor. The wool runner rug in the hallway was dense and scratchy against their feet as Issay walked ahead, leading them to his bedroom. He sat on bed and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor when Sakurai crossed the door frame. Sakurai’s shirt joined it as he stood between his legs at the edge of the bed, then held Issay’s face between his hands, and kissed him. He unbuttoned Issay’s jeans and released his cock from his underwear. The tip was damp with pre-cum.  Wrapping his hand around his length, he slipped his thumb over it in circles through the slickness.</p><p>    Issay’s eyes rolled back, gasping. “Shit. Careful!” Issay was on edge as badly as he was. He lifted his hips up off of the bed, and Sakurai helped him slide his jeans the rest of the way off, along with his underwear. Issay set to work, trying to take Sakurai’s jeans off, but the button fly was a bit stiff and resistant, and didn’t want to undo. He struggled with it. Finally they unbuttoned, and Sakurai kicked them off, sending them across the room. They just missed the chair next to the window, and landed on the floor. He didn’t care where they went. He had no underwear on underneath them. Issay raised a brow. “Commando? Planning for something, are we?”</p><p>    Laughing, Sakurai shoved him back on the bed. Playful nips cascaded across Issay’s chest and shoulders, eliciting more shivers, and they play wrestled like they were kids. He’d never thought that he would be able to have such fun, low pressure sex like this, and it was great. It took a friend to do it. He could live with that.</p><p>    Issay got that look like he had an idea, and pushed Sakurai off of him, smacking off groping hands that threatened to drag him back into the bed. He stumbled backward, and leaned over, hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Hold up. Sec. Wait a minute.” then dashed into the bathroom. “In here,” he called.</p><p>    Sakurai heard the water running in the tub. A blast of steamy air billowed into the bedroom from the adjoining bath. Sniff, sniff… strawberries?? He jumped up and went to the bathroom, to find Issay stirring the water in the large tub, sitting on the tub’s side. What the hell is that? Red water? A large empty plastic bottle sat on the floor. Issay got up and threw it away as the water began to jell and thicken. “Oh jeez…” he laughed, “what the fuck is that shit?” Issay didn’t reply and smiled a naughty smile as he turned on the shower, beckoning for him to join him.</p><p>    They showered off together as the tub slowly filled up, scrubbing each other off. When he finally turned off the water to the tub, Issay clambered over the side and splashed in. The water was thick and viscous, swirling around his thighs. KAWOOSH! Sakurai dove in, plopped down, and heaved a heavy wave at him where he stood. The sensual slickness flowed through his fingers. “Ohhh… I like. I like a lot.” He kneeled and scooped up a double handful of the jell, and ladled it over the top of Issay’s shoulders when he sat down, then over his own, coating both of them with the brilliant ooze. Issay dragged him off of his knees, up against his body, and the emollient created a slippery glide, torso against torso.</p><p>    “Oh. Oh wow.” Sakurai groaned “Mmm.” They kissed, and Issay’s globby hands instinctively went into Sakurai’s hair, clumping it into damp tangles. Sakurai’s nose wrinkled up in pleasure. “Ooh- this definitely has possibilities. I want you, Issay. How shall we do this?”</p><p>    Issay’s eyes sparkled a challenge. “Turn around, here, like this- against the side of the tub.” Sakurai obeyed, turning, and knelt with is hands on the tub’s inset bar, elbows up and out. Issay knew that it would scare him just a bit, and excite him to no end- he could never back down from a challenge once it was delivered no matter how scary it was, and he had decided to screw with his head. He fained indifference as his heart leaped into his throat, and played along. “Now what?”</p><p>    "And now… this.” He closed in from behind, pushing his hips up against his friend’s ass, wrapping his lean arms around his body. Issay’s hard, erect cock nestled against his tail bone and butt cheeks, and he rocked his hips, rutting the underside of his cock against him in the hot, slick, jelled water. It was like being immersed in a gigantic vat of warm, strawberry scented lubricant; the flesh slipping against his own with sensuous ease.</p><p>    Sakurai groaned. Biting back a surge of lust, he tried to grab his own cock, but Issay slapped his hand away. “You’ll get your turn… but mine first.” He nipped Sakurai’s left ear as he ground into him, and Sakurai shivered. The sensation of the jelled water was paradise, and sheer torture that he could not relieve on his own. He wasn’t allowed to. His cock ached with how full and hard it had become, and he surreptitiously tried to sneak in a little pressure against the side of the tub for a good rub, but was caught.</p><p>    “Oh no you don’t- not yet.” Issay rolled his hips a bit faster under the water and moaned softly, showing signs that he was ramping up closer to orgasm. Sakurai leaned back into him and rubbed his back against his chest, and dropped his head to the side. Issay rutted harder, closing his teeth over Sakurai’s exposed neck, and bit in just enough to sting, but not injure. Sakurai growled, and the growl turned into a long, high pitched shriek of desire. Issay came instantly at the sound of it- Sakurai knew it, but couldn’t feel it on his skin underwater- it all felt the same on his back. Issay’s breath heaved as he shuddered.</p><p>    Sakurai’s shoulders shook silently, and Issay knew that he’d been tricked. He’d pulled one of his patented live concert horny cries on him to push him over the edge, and it had worked instantly, setting him off like magician’s flash paper. “Bastard.”</p><p>    Sakurai’s laughter became audible, and Issay gave him a shove.</p><p>   “It’s my turn now.” Flashing his brows and grinning, Sakurai splashed himself down, and climbed out of the tub. When he neared the center of the room, he turned and gestured to join him. What? You don’t want the tub? Issay climbed out, being careful not to slip on the tile floor. What’s he doing?</p><p>    Issay reached where he stood, and as Sakurai held him by the shoulders and turned him around, he realized what he wanted: he could see them both reflected in the long mirror above the sink. They were rosy from the hot water, slick with a layer of the emollient jell. Sakurai wanted to watch.</p><p>    "OK,” Issay surprised him, flipping the power dynamic. “I could go for some of that.” His eyes pierced Sakurai’s in the reflection. He hadn’t expected him to become dominant. Ooh, I’ve caught him off guard. A thrill shot through Issay, and he pulled himself up tall, slowly going around to stand behind him. Their eyes met in the mirror again. Tension sparked between them. Sakurai definitely looked like he was riding on the wave of it- his cock was rigid, and his face was taking on the intensity it did when he was pushing boundaries on stage.</p><p>     “Stay here.” He left the room, and returned with two leather belts. Sakurai had a flash of fear in his eyes when he saw them, but said nothing. His cock twitched.</p><p>    Issay grabbed Sakurai’s arms just above the elbows, yanking his shoulders back, forcing his chest out. He wrapped the belt around his arms, looping in a figure eight to use up the extra length, and buckled it snugly. As belt leather bit into the flesh of Sakurai’s upper arms, his eyes darkened and narrowed, burning. Issay walked around him, studying his creation from every angle. He held the other belt looped in half in one hand as he walked, and let Sakurai stew in his fear for a bit- wondering what he had planned with it. Issay slapped the leather loop on his own hand so he could hear it snap, pausing just to the side of Sakurai’s shoulder. Sakurai’s breathing was shallow as the belt stroked along his jaw, and flicked under his chin. Issay had him- lost to the fantasy he was creating.</p><p>    Issay nuzzled his earlobe with his nose and eyed him over through the mirror, his breath hot on Sakurai’s neck. Sakurai refused to drop eye contact and trembled, trying to conceal it. Issay leered. “Good.” The belt slapped Issay’s hand again with a crack, and a wave of shivers wracked Sakurai. He dropped the end of the belt, straightening it out and made quick work of looping it around Sakurai’s wrists, buckling it off.</p><p>    Sakurai was completely bound with the leather belts now; arms lashed together behind his back, with his chest forced forward. Issay walked over to the sink and leaned against it with is arms folded, admiring his handiwork. Sakurai was fully erect and his body crackled with tension, his teeth bared from the strain of his binding and from sheer lust. Glorious. Issay pulled himself away from the sight, and opened the linen cabinet and grabbed the bowl from his bathing kit, filled it with more of the strawberry bath, and returned to where Sakurai was bound. Rivulets of red flowed onto the floor as he poured the red jell down Sakurai’s body. Dropping the bowl and letting it clatter away, he stood too close to Sakurai, ominous and silent, allowing just the tiniest bit of contact with the tip of Sakurai’s cock against the front of his hip. Shivers wracked Sakurai’s body violently, but he resisted thrusting. He didn’t want to loose in this little power game.</p><p>    But Issay, at that moment, owned him. And he knew it. He brought his hand up to Sakurai’s straining chest, swirling a fingertip in the strawberry slickness around his nipples, then formed a harsh looking claw and scratched him. Sakurai hissed a gasp through his clenched teeth. He tried to conceal a soft, voiceless grunt as another slash of the nails scratched across his ribs. Issay didn’t break skin, but he was definitely feeling it. The jell stripped off where his nails had tracked, and the skin reddened. Issay closed in, nearly nose to nose, and pinched both of his nipples hard, catching him off guard. Sakurai groaned, and his knees buckled.</p><p>    Sakurai was giddy, enthralled. Issay was breathless, staring into his eyes. He tore himself away, and went to stand behind him. A cracking slap filled the air as his hand made contact with the jell covered underside of Sakurai’s ass, just at the top of his thighs. He grunted. Flesh shimmered from the shock. Issay nosed the shell of his ear, then pulled back and delivered a slapping spank to the underside of other cheek, making it bounce and ripple. Sakurai’s eyes darkened and became narrow slits. Another lash, and another rang out, amplified by the jell. The backs of his thighs and ass were swollen with a rosy glow from being spanked, that deepened as Issay continued. He didn’t stop the rain of stinging blows until steady tears flowed silently down Sakurai’s cheeks.</p><p>    Issay filled the bowl with more emollient bath. It had been cooling down in the tub for some time now, and he used it to soothe the burning red cheeks and thighs of Sakurai’s ass. Gently stroking handfuls of it into the skin in sweeping motions, building into deeper kneading strokes, Issay loosened up the flesh and quivering muscle. Sakurai sagged, moaning with exhaustion from the ordeal. Issay checked the bonds on his arms to make sure that they weren’t too tight and causing injury. He’d fought the bonds a bit while he was being spanked and they’d been biting into his upper arms. He would have to remove them soon, but the blood flow to his hands was still OK.</p><p>    He leaned in close to Sakurai’s ear and spoke. “Oh… this is just the sort of play you go for, isn’t it?” He switched sides, licking the rim of his other ear, and laughed. “Pervert.” Sakurai trembled, and closed his eyes. “Oh no you don’t. Open them. Look into that mirror- this is what you asked for, after all. Such an obscene lech.” He nipped his earlobe, and wrapped his arm around Sakurai from the other side, and fondled the length of his cock with the tip of his middle finger. “That’s right, pervert. Watch it. I want to you to see everything that I’m doing to you, and how you react… how badly you want it.” He stroked the underside of his cock with his index and middle finger together, and Sakurai’s body nearly vibrated with his efforts to keep still. “You’re depraved.”</p><p>    Issay bent down and scooped up another handful of the red jell. It had chilled in the bowl and was quite cold now. Pressing his body against Sakurai’s leather strap bound arms, he watched over his shoulder as he basted Sakurai’s cock with the cold jell. Sakurai’s breath hissed out of him. He was so aroused, his face was twisted and red like a demon from an ancient wood block print.</p><p>    “You like jacking off in front of an audience so much, I think that I will indulge you. You’re going to jack yourself off with my hand, on your own, and we’re going to watch the show -every nasty detail- in that mirror. Since you’re into that sort of thing, pervert.” He licked the sensitive skin beneath Sakurai’s ear, and closed his mouth over his neck, sucking it, but not hard enough to leave a visible mark. His lips followed the path of tense tendons to his shoulder, then back up, and sucked on his ear. “Are you ready, pervert?”</p><p>    His hand closed around Sakurai’s cock, but didn’t move at all. Sakurai panted. “Well? What are you waiting for? I told you to jack yourself off, so get moving! And don’t think for a moment that I won’t know if you’ve closed your eyes, to hide from seeing yourself in that mirror- I’m watching you.” Sakurai growled and trembled, and began thrusting through the tubed fist of Issay’s hand. The strawberry jell bath worked well as a lubricant, squishing through his fingers with each tentative thrust.</p><p>    “FASTER!” he demanded, and the tears began to well once again in Sakurai’s eyes as he fucked harder. He watched the head of Sakurai’s cock, glossy and red, poke through his own fist; watched as humiliation and arousal fought fiercely through him. A fierce shriek escaped him and he lost control. His balls slapped into his friend’s knuckles as he thrust into his hand, fucking wildly. His appearance was vulgar, animalistic, but humiliation coursed through him like an aphrodisiac. His eyes glazed over and he screamed as his cock thrust its last. The beginnings of his orgasm started to erupt through Issay’s fingers, and he blacked out, collapsing.</p><p>    Issay saw it coming and caught him by the arms and eased him down to the bathroom floor with his knees up, propping his back against the wall tile. He let him catch his breath a little first, then pushed him forward to rest his head on his knees as Issay unbuckled the belt restraints.</p><p>    Sakurai wasn’t lucid, and once free, he slumped in relief. Issay checked his eyes: he was completely gone, in subspace. His arms had indented marks where the belts had dug in, and a bit of blood blistering where it pinched in areas, but no major damage. He took down the shower head and turned it on, gently swishing the water to rinse off the strawberry jell. A quick shampoo was necessary- he’d accidentally gotten that crap into Sakurai’s hair when they were in the bath, and had some in his own hair, too.</p><p>    Sakurai sat like a limp rag doll on the floor, propped up against the wall. Issay struggled, and ended up having to straddle his leg over Sakurai for something to lean on for balance, or he would have fallen over while he was scrubbed. A final rinse chased the conditioner down the drain in a creamy white swirl, and he turned off the water and hung the sprayer back up. He made sure that Sakurai wasn’t going to slip or fall over, then grabbed a few fresh bath towels from the linen cabinet, carefully toweled him dry, and carried him into the bedroom with a fireman’s lift, as if he were a passed out drunk. Might as well have been.</p><p>    He got him safely into the bed, left, and returned with a couple of bottles of spring water and a bottle of unscented almond oil. Pouring a little handful of the sweet almond oil into his hand and warming it for a moment or two, Issay massaged the glowing, sore flesh of Sakurai’s ass and thighs, where he had taken quite a spanking. God, he’d been so willful. Issay took some more oil, and warmed it. As he worked on his shoulders, he was careful to be gentle around the blood blistered areas of his upper arms. Guaranteed he was going to be feeling the strain of their activities tomorrow.</p><p>    Sakurai moaned at that, clearly feeling the fatigue of his shoulders and the tightness that had formed between his shoulder blades while his arms were bound. His head rocked on the pillow, and he came to. “Water?” He asked in a dry, raspy voice. He’d screamed his throat raw when he had come. Issay smiled, and helped him to roll over. “Owowow…” Sakurai winced and lifted his hips off of the bed when he sat up, feeling the tenderness of the spanking that he’d received. Issay stabilized him with an arm, and handed him one of the bottles of water, opened.</p><p>    “You’re going to be feeling that for a few days… but you really wanted it. You were like a madman.” His friend blushed and moaned, then smiled. “Shut up.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sakurai returned to his apartment, stiff and exhausted from his evening… and truly stunned. To be honest with himself, he admitted that yeah, most likely they were going to end up fucking again… and again. An irresistible force. He’d just no idea that it would go down like that. It made him wonder about Issay too, how well his friend understood him. Was it just Issay being uncanny, or had he been broadcasting his needs to everyone? Hi guys! I could really use a spanking right about now. He blushed, and tried to not contemplate the possibility. Too much to deal with.</p><p>    Fuck. His ass still hurt him. Uncomfortable at that thought, he unlocked his apartment door and entered, sighing. I got fucking spanked by a buddy. Spanked. He fucking tied me up, spanked me, and I loved it. He felt his face begin to burn with a deeper blush. God damned spanked me. He dumped a bag on his kitchen table from the beef bowl shop down the street that he’d stopped at on his way home, feeling like a bottomless pit after the physical exertion and not wanting to stick around once he’d become lucid again. Oh, Issay is never going to let me live this one down.</p><p>    He grabbed a pair of disposable chop sticks from the take out bag, pulled them out of their sleeve, and separated them with a snap. He sat next to the window in his kitchen and ate, wolfing it like he hadn’t eaten in days. Starving. His ass ached and he tried to ignore it, but couldn’t. He shifted, leaned to the side. Leaned forward. That helped a little, but it still throbbed.</p><p>    His eyes glazed over, staring out the window at the lights from a building across the way. The chopsticks started to slip out of his slackened hand, and the tip of one fell, splashing into his beef bowl and bringing him back to the present. Fuck. He sighed again. At least they were on speaking terms, and were going to go ahead with the tour. He could only imagine trying to make some sort of excuse that the others would buy if Issay had backed out. Sakurai stood up and got himself a soda from the fridge, cracked it open, took a swig, and leaned against the window sill. Thunder rumbled nearby. Storm brewing. How appropriate.</p><p>    As the rain began to spatter the glass, he prodded at the remains of his beef bowl. Life can be interesting, this is certain. This thing between them… it just wasn’t ending. Unbid, the truth spoke from his gut: he didn’t want it to. Gay? He wasn’t sure if it qualified as gay. Venting energy, definitely. But gay? This was his buddy. Not some corny Loveswept romance. It was Issay.</p><p>    Sakurai picked up the take out bowl and tipped it, slurping the remains from the bottom, then tossed the plastic into the trash. Jerk off buddy. OK, they did a little more than just jerk off, but who’s counting? He looked out the window at the rain, which was now coming down in a torrential downpour, beating on his window. The lights across the way were barely visible now, a blur in the distance. Thunder rumbled.</p><p>   So it’s come to this.<br/>___________________________</p><p> </p><p>    The bullet train whooshed along, taking them to their first gig of the tour. Sakurai had staked out his own block of seats in their private train car to try to relax. He and Imai had been fighting over the tour for the past week, and he wasn’t happy. He sipped his coffee, and watched the city flow by.</p><p>    “Hey… may I join you?” Issay stood in the isle, his hand on the plush backing of the opposing row of seats. Sakurai looked down the way to Imai and to U-ta, who was crunching on a bag of cheese snacks while they were talking. “Yeah, sure.” They’d have privacy for a few minutes, at least.</p><p>    “What’s going on? You two have barely spoken at all today.”</p><p>    Sakurai shook his head in disgust. “It’s been nothing but fights for days. Fights over solos, fights over stage direction, and of course his favorite: fights over how he wants to be dignified and cool, and to not blow it this time. I’m fucking tired of it. I can’t contribute a god damned thing without him telling me that the label doesn’t like it, or just plain ignoring me.” He cracked the empty coffee can onto the tray table in front of his seat and looked out the window, trying to contain his anger. “It’s always going to be this way between us, and there is nothing I can do. He outranks me. It’s frustrating as fucking hell. What can I do about it? My only other option than to go along with it and let him have his way, is to walk… and that means leaving the other guys swinging in the wind, just over a problem with Imai.”</p><p>    Issay knew that his friend wouldn’t take that option unless it was an absolutely unbearable situation. He was still a team player. But that left him powerless, a powder keg waiting to blow.</p><p>    “You know… press are going to be at the show tomorrow evening.” Issay finally broke the silence that had fallen between them. Sakurai looked up and saw him suppressing a smile, trying not to laugh.</p><p>    His eyes went wide. “You… don’t…”</p><p>    “Why not?” Issay interrupted, raising a brow in challenge. “We’re reasonably comfortable with each other…” Sakurai spluttered a laugh, and Issay continued. “We’re reasonably comfortable with each other, Spanky, and it’s not like you’re going near Imai,” his eyes sparkled with mischief. “It’d be great publicity for the tour.”</p><p>    Sakurai blushed and shot a glance down the way at Imai, who was propping his feet up and lounging back with a beer. “Won’t it make things more awkward?”</p><p>    “It’s the perfect cover. If anyone saw anything after that, they’d think it was a publicity stunt to push the tour. The obvious… hidden in plain sight.”</p><p> </p><p>___________________________</p><p> </p><p>    Issay made sure no one was around to see him as he slipped down the hall on Sakurai’s hotel floor. Their game had gone over flawlessly at the show this evening- Imai was livid, and the fans went wild… but then, the fans always went wild. He sang the entire encore with them, shoulder to shoulder with Sakurai. They tangoed, and Sakurai snatched a rose from his teeth with his own in a not-quite kiss that brought the house down. The familiarity of their new found intimacy had made it a lot easier to do than it otherwise would have been. Hidehiko cast him an appraising look when they left the stage, looking a bit too suspicious for his taste, but had said nothing. In the end, it wasn’t any of his business anyway.</p><p>    He quietly tapped twice on the door to let Sakurai know that he was there, and resisted looking around again to ensure that he wasn’t followed. He heard him approach, and check out the peephole before opening the door to let him in. Issay went inside, and the door was closed behind him. He’d left the opening night after party about half an hour before Sakurai did, to reduce unwanted attention. After all but flaunting what they’d had in the name of stage performance, he’d found himself in a buzz all night.</p><p>    They didn’t have any arrangement to get together tonight- he’d just taken a chance and phoned to see if he’d gotten back from the after party yet, and came over. It was a very minor risk for him to go to his room, as long as they kept things quiet. They were working together, after all, and with a few days before their next show, Imai likely had drunk himself to oblivion at the party.</p><p>    The door clicked shut and Sakurai backed him up against the wall, his eyes crackling with arousal. Their game had gotten Sakurai going just as much as it had gotten to him. Perhaps that was what Hidehiko had picked up on. Though he was quiet most of the time, he was an astute observer.</p><p>    Sakurai’s hands went flat on the wall to either side of him, pinning Issay… as if he wanted to get away. What he’d planned to spring on him tonight made his stomach flip with nerves. He hoped that he’d not overestimated him. Sakurai closed the gap between them, and when his tongue stroked his own, he realized that his lips had parted with anticipation. Sakurai pulled back to end it, but Issay followed, not allowing the contact to be broken. His hands went to Sakurai’s chest, grabbing fistfulls of his shirt and turned him around, backing him up against the wall. Their kisses became rough, frantic, like being consumed. They broke it off only as Sakurai tugged his shirt up over his head.</p><p>    Issay backed them across the room as they struggled to strip each other’s clothing off, unwilling to end the contact of their mouths, tongues. They reached the bed and stumbled onto it. Sakurai had on a T-shirt that identified him as part of the staff for the tour when he’d arrived, but it was now in a wad on the floor, along with his jeans. Issay tugged back. “Just a second.” He took off his own jeans, and before he dumped them, went into the pocket. Sakurai scooted back on the bed, away from the edge to make room for him.</p><p>    He kissed Sakurai again, rekindling the fire before reaching for his hand. He took a deep breath, and didn’t break eye contact as he placed what was in his pocket into Sakurai’s hand and closed his hand over it, not saying a word and letting register what he’d just given him. Sakurai’s breath became shallow, but he didn’t look away. He didn’t seem angry… this was good. But the tension became very odd between them. Sakurai looked at the contents of his hand- a foil condom packet, and a pillow pouch of condom safe silicone lubricant.</p><p>    “I… I want to try this. While we’re somewhere unfamiliar, away from home. Somewhere that we’ll never return to again, just… just in case something goes wrong and it’s not what we want after all.” He paused, not wanting to continue, but he had to. “I… know that we’ve been avoiding it. It’s obvious. But… I want to experience this. Please. I want you to fuck me. Really… fuck me.”</p><p>He’d gotten the condom after leaving the party this evening, aroused by what they’d shared on stage in front of so many people. It had set his mind reeling, and he acted upon the impulse. He wanted to cross this bridge, tonight.</p><p>    He knew what it meant to Sakurai too. What he was asking him to do sealed the deal for him. It was that one thing, that single act that was the borderline to a whole new sexuality, to him. Regardless of what they’d experienced together, he had compartmentalized it. Promiscuous yes, but… within the realm of possibility that buddies could experience and still consider themselves “straight”. Both were interested in women, but it kept on happening. But this… this. This was not. This was penetration. It was man on man… it solidly landed them into bisexual land.</p><p>    The packet crackled in Sakurai’s hand. He held it up, flipping it over and reading it as if it were important to know the brand and safe handling instructions pictographed across the foil. Issay stopped breathing. Had he asked for too much, triggering the end of their liaison?</p><p>    “I…” he began to apologize and recant, when Sakurai’s lips caressed his own. His eyes went wide, startled. Sakurai’s tongue took advantage of his opened mouth, deepening his kiss. Issay’s breath caught in his chest, and he almost fainted, overwhelmed by the realization that Sakurai had consented.</p><p>    They kissed, and he reclined onto the pillows, tugging Sakurai onto himself. He moaned and brushed the stray bangs that had fallen into Sakurai’s eyes. This… something had changed. Were they slowing down from fear of going into unknown, uncharted territory? Or were they savoring it since there was no denying it now? They were sober this time, and he was glad of it too. No falling into excuses afterward that didn’t hold water. A direct decision of consent.</p><p>    His cock was rigid. The stress of broaching this with Sakurai had him limp, then hard again, and it pressed against Sakurai’s belly. He wanted him. Desire exploded within Issay, and he rolled on top, devouring him with kisses. Sakurai's touch explored his rib cage as he nibbled on his ear, and neck.</p><p>    “Are you ready?”</p><p>    “Yeah.” Sakurai’s cock poked into his hip and he shivered.</p><p>     “Here. This will be easiest,” Sakurai positioned him, rolling him over to his front. “Spread your legs and stay on your stomach.”</p><p>    His entire body was tense. He’d tightened up his muscles and hadn’t realized it. Issay tried to calm himself, imagining that he was sinking to the floor. There. That helped. He waited on his belly and heard the foil crackle and tear open. Sakurai stroked lubricant along the split of his ass, massaging to soothe him; kissed his tailbone, and paused- he must have been lubing himself up, too.</p><p>    Sakurai slipped the tip of his index in, and it stung. He found himself tensing up again. “Shh… you're OK.” He stilled his hand movement, allowing Issay to adjust. “Just breathe.”</p><p>    Issay squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to relax. Perspiration beaded up on his lip. "There... try again." Sakurai’s finger moved in deeper, pausing to apply more of the silicone, then thrust to help spread it around and aid in relaxing the muscles. He pulled the finger out, then stacked another on to increase the girth, and pushed. Issay grunted from the penetration, but the second finger wasn't as difficult. Sakurai kneaded his buttocks with the other hand, to distract him. A third finger joined the others. That wasn't as bad. He was still on edge though.</p><p> </p><p>    “Have you ever done this before?”</p><p>    “No… well, not on myself,” Issay laughed. This was on impulse tonight. Unplanned.</p><p>    “OK- I have my little finger in. Want to try it now?”</p><p>    Issay stopped breathing and clenched his teeth, then exhaled. “Yes... but… be careful. Go slow.” Sakurai removed his fingers and applied more lubricant. He settled himself into position over him, interlocking their fingers with his palms against the back of Issay’s hands.</p><p>    His latex covered cock pressed in until Issay asked him to give him time to recover. “If you bear down, it will hurt less.” Sakurai’s experienced, supportive suggestion drove home the reality of what he’d asked for, and he went beet red, blushing. “Sorry. It’s just… it helps. Trust me.”</p><p>    The burning sensation of Sakurai buried within him decreased. Issay focused, relaxing again, and he pushed all the way in, to the base. His balls rested upon his own, and it was oddly pleasant. Heavy. Warm. The fiery sensations calmed down, and he sighed. Sakurai noticed that it wasn't as uncomfortable as it had been, and thrust an inch or two, then withdrew. He paused, and re-applied the lube. There. Much easier.</p><p>    Sakurai kissed him on the neck, letting him hear what it was doing to him. His breath had grown ragged with lust. Was it the taboo experience itself, or the tightness that was doing it? Sakurai’s need was contagious. Issay dropped his head onto the pillow beneath him and moaned into it. His shaft was pinned between himself and the mattress. The pressure of that unusual fullness, and Sakurai rubbing up against him... he never imagined how nervy the inside of his passage was. The slightest movement became amplified.</p><p>    He set up a rhythm, and as he thrust, Issay had to stop himself from thrusting too, or he would tighten up… but oh, god, he couldn't. The awareness of being filled spiked his desire and created a need to fuck too: it’s what his body is designed to do. Male. He hadn’t thought of that. He struck a see-saw motion of lifting and leaning into him, grinding against the sheets underneath himself, then returning again to receive. Sakurai’s arousal skyrocketed. “Stop! That's too intense... I’m gonna lose it!” He panted and sweat dripped from his forehead onto Issay’s back.</p><p>    “It… fuck. Every time you moved, it changed the angle of your hips and you’d get tighter… it was like being sucked in rippling waves. We’ve got to watch that one, or I’ll come too fast on you. Fuck. Talking about it isn’t helping either.” He thrust again without warning, unable slow down this time, near the point of no return.</p><p>    His nipples, stiff and sensitive, ground into the sheets from being on the receiving side of Sakurai’s barrage. Shit- he couldn’t take it any more. He had to fuck. Desperately. Issay humped the bed again in that back and forth alternating motion that slapped Sakurai’s balls against his ass, then grinding himself against cotton sheeting.</p><p>    He started to cry out in the frenzy he was spiraling into, and Sakurai hissed “SHHH!” into his ear. “Come on… breathe…” but he only had control enough to muffle his scream with a pillow, rutting as if he were in heat. Sakurai couldn’t hold himself off any longer either- as Issay kept on humping, he was shoving onto Sakurai’s cock, impaling himself. Sakurai’s fingers tensed up and became claws interlocked with Issay’s, scratching at the linens.</p><p>    Their bodies writhed fiercely. Issay was drenched as if he were soaked from taking a shower. He took the brunt of both his own, and the raining storm above him that was Sakurai. Their wet flesh slapped obscenely together as they fucked, and the headboard rattled. There was no hiding this. This was sex. Very loud sex.</p><p>______________________</p><p> </p><p>    The bedside telephone rang. It startled Sakurai, and knowing exactly why it was ringing triggered the orgasm he had been fighting so hard to resist. He buried his face into Issay’s shoulder, trying to contain the roar that threatened as he came. Wave after wave of release pulsed through him. The phone continued to ring as he wracked with spasms. Issay crushed his fingers as he thrashed, trembling.</p><p>    “Shh!” Sakurai reached for the handset, not even gotten off of him yet. “Hello?”</p><p>    “Pardon me for calling at such an unseemly hour, but we’ve received complaints about the noise levels that appear to be from your room. Is everything all right?”</p><p>    Sakurai gestured to Issay to stay quiet. “Ah! Yes, I'm fine. I’m not sure where it’s coming from, but I hear it too.”</p><p>    “I apologize for the inconvenience, sir. We’ll have this taken care of as quick as we can. Good night, sir.” The line signaled that the hotel staff member had ended the call, and he dropped the phone into its cradle.</p><p>    “Shit!” He rolled to get off of Issay and rubbed his face with his hands. “We fucking got nailed- someone reported the noise disturbance.”</p><p>    Issay wasn’t capable of speaking yet, and laid there, trembling. Sakurai wracked with another wave of shivers. Aftershocks. Damn, that was intense. He scooted himself upright against the headboard and watched Issay coming down from his own orgasm. He has to get out of here. It wasn't safe to for him to be seen here in the morning. He's a hot potato that can’t be found with him. Hell- if they’d been quiet, he could have stayed and they could have said they’d been drinking and he had passed out in Sakurai’s room. His own memory was a blur, but he knew they had to have been pretty damned loud.</p><p>    “Mnnh…” Issay rolled over and grunted. “Ugh. Yuck.” The bedsheets were stuck to him, soaked with their perspiration. Well, that and Issay’s orgasm. Sakurai still had on the condom. “Oh… ugh… sorry. Let's get cleaned up.” He stood up and lurched off towards the bathroom.</p><p>     “You go on ahead. I’ll be in. Give me a minute.”</p><p>    Issay turned the shower on, using the toilet while he was waiting for the hot water. He was alone with his thoughts. Problem was, he didn’t want to be. He couldn’t handle it. A couple of minutes passed, and he realized that he was staring at the cum stains on his sheets. He shivered, a chill setting in from the damp sheets clinging to him.</p><p>    He’d done it. THEY’D done it. They’d gone there. There. His mind reeled. There was no easy out now. No way of denying it. He wasn’t an ass enough to say "At least I was on top." He’d fucked him.</p><p>Sakurai got up and grabbed a handful of tissues to clean up the cum stain on his sheets. The stench of stale latex met his nose as he scrubbed. The condom had shriveled and collapsed in on itself as he lost his erection, and was hanging, its reservoir tip full of semen. He'd forgotten to remove it. What the fuck am I doing? He ripped it off, wrapped it in toilet paper, and dropped the wad into the trash.</p><p>    When he entered the bathroom, steam hit him in a wall of oppressive humidity. Issay had finished bathing and was keeping warm. He let Sakurai in, standing to the side of the glass cubicle. Their bodies brushed against each other in the narrow space as he got out of the shower. Pleasure shot through him though the caress was unintentional, and he avoided looking him in the eye. He reached for the small bar of hotel soap and fumbled, knocking the discarded soggy paper wrapper to the floor.</p><p>He lathered up and watched as Issay took a towel from the rack, wrapping it around his hips. When Issay turned to face him and sat on the edge of the sink, he had to tear his gaze away from the soft bulge of his crotch. He was processing a strange blend of shock and uncurbed desire and fought to hide it. This was terrifying. He felt obsessed.</p><p>“That was…” he exhaled and clenched his lips. “We… we have to get you outta here, but it's not safe yet.” The faucet knob squeaked, and he stepped out. He he opted to dry off in the bedroom, rather than the confines of the bath, trying not to stand too close to Issay but not be obvious. He couldn't handle it.</p><p>"I'm going to check if anyone's out there. Stay here." Sakurai put on what he wore earlier and went into the hall. He returned a few minutes later and tossed a box of Apollo chocolates onto the bed. "You can go now. All clear."</p><p>Issay was already dressed when he got back, slipping on his shoes. He paused at the door latch. “I’ll skip breakfast… it'll be easier to play dumb when there are questions in the morning if I'm not there.”</p><p>    “Thanks. I’ll make it up to you.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he blushed. They’d taken on new meaning.</p><p> </p><p>__________________________</p><p> </p><p>    Issay slipped out without incident and went to his own room. The indicator was flashing on the phone next to his bed, to tell him he’d missed a call. Simple enough- if anyone asked, he’d unplugged it for the night.</p><p>    It seemed bizarre, having use such measures after having spent time with Sakurai, but things were not as they had been. He thought of Hidehiko at the concert. No, it was necessary. They had to be careful. The boundaries and social taboos they’d crossed as a band had stacked up, no doubt, but this… might create problems between them. They depended upon specific unwritten rules between them, like ball players that had to share a locker room and travel as a group in buses. Be kinky. Be wild. It’s what we do. Yeah, shit happens. Don’t involve the rest of us, and we'll all live to work another day.</p><p>    But they’d broken that rule. They worked together. The scandal would boost record and concert ticket sales, sure, but everyone had to survive it, and the inevitable bombardment from the tabloids, first. And in the end, this wasn’t love, it was an itch to scratch. They were friends, and they fucked.</p><p> </p><p>    This evening had been phenomenal. He’d experienced nothing like it. Warmth flooded his groin at the memory. How he had any energy in reserve he had no idea, but hell, there he was, aroused again. He undressed, socks and briefs landing on the floor, and he folded his jeans and shirt and put them onto the dresser. He had to sleep if his excuse of unplugging the phone would be believable.</p><p>    Unbid, the image of Sakurai's sheets returned, of the sweat soaked wreckage. Although they'd showered, the room had retained the heavy pheromonal musk of male fucking. It hung thick in the air when he had left. Sex with a man smelled different.</p><p>    He could still smell it. He stirred to life, tingling, becoming erect once more. The smooth cotton hotel sheets, identical to Sakurai’s, tugged on his hardening length. He couldn't forget the sensation of Sakurai buried to the hilt into him… his lower half ached, battered from the invasion, and stung. He was covered in lubricant; it wasn't water soluble. They’d used quite a bit of it. He squirmed and felt the strange velvety smoothness of the residue upon his skin.</p><p>    Issay groaned and rolled over to try to disengage from his thoughts, and to end the contact of the top sheet which was driving him mad. He stared at the wall in the dark, illuminated by the clock on the table behind him. His legs slipped against each other with that unnatural silky smoothness. He was all awareness- the odd tingling ache at the entrance of his ass and deeper, his slicked balls pulling up and shifting. His pulsing cock canted over from his position, the tug of gravity increasing the sensitivity of its state.</p><p>    He blinked. Sighed. He couldn’t believe it- he was horny again. No. Sleep. He rammed forward with a thrust, his feet fidgeting as his knees ground against each other. It did it on its own. He reached down and shifted his scrotum, which had gotten snagged between his thighs. It was satiny from the silicone, and grabbed the flesh of the thigh on the bottom, tugging in the most sensual way he could imagine. He’d intended to shift them, but couldn’t force himself to take the hand away. Lust flowed through him, and he licked his lips and swallowed the lump in his throat. He grew aware of the satyric hard-on he was sporting, but refused to touch himself.</p><p>    The dim glow of the alarm clock was the only light source with the black-out drapes drawn, and he blamed it for being awake. Almost 3AM. Issay flopped over. Sleep. He kneaded his testicles, then stopped when he realized what he was doing. That’s not helping.</p><p>    The sound of his friend’s voice earlier echoed in his memory. Even when he was trying to be quiet, it sparkled. Yes, especially when he was screwing. He had a voice made for sex. A twinge of uncomfortable emotion washed through him at the thought as his body responded as if he were sucking him off right there. God, I need to get laid again. But I'm not in love with him. He's my friend, for Christ’s sake! Buddy. Pal. Comrade. He’d let himself go with it when they’d gotten it on- an orgasm is an orgasm, and it was good. No big deal. It was convenient. Shit, downright common in their field. He just didn’t like how he was beginning to bond to him.</p><p> </p><p>   Yeah, yeah- oxytocin. It’s why you never go back after a one night stand with a groupie.You bond. Want more. Crave it. His balls began to hurt. He’d been resisting getting off for a while and was paying the price. He rolled his fingers once more, massaging the ache in his testicles. Dammit. He was going to be laying here with aching balls if he didn’t drop his pride and get himself off soon. He eased his hand from beneath his lube clingy scrotum. Blood pulsed through his length, making it throb with unmet hunger. He’d hit an all-time low: needing to jerk off, fantasizing about a buddy. He's a friend, god damn it.</p><p>   OK, a friend who’s cock was up my ass not too long ago. Who I’d all but begged. Humiliation clenched in his chest and washed up his face in a wave of agony. Yes… it had happened for real. His ass was sore to prove it. He gave in, rubbing the frenulum. It was rather sensitive, having rubbed so much on the sheets.</p><p>    The recollection made his desire spike. He surged forward, rocking in gentle jabs, on his side. He took the palm of his left hand and cupped it, rolling it over the tip of his cock in a slow circle. Issay suppressed a moan. He replayed the night in Sakurai’s bed, immersed in full color surround sound without mercy in the theater of his mind. He was there again, a weight against his back. The scent of him, of the soap when he’d showered after being on stage, his deodorant. His shampoo. He could feel his warm breath as he panted and groaned into his ear. For Sakurai, he’d discovered, part of his sexuality demanded that he be heard. He’d make sure you would hear him, even if there were little privacy, by getting in close. Was it coincidental, the audible licentiousness as he stroked your neck, nibbling on your earlobe? He didn’t think so. It was something that set him apart. He knew the power and effect that he had on others, and so he used it.</p><p>    Issay continued to roll his rounded palm over the head of his shaft, an intense way of jacking off that he didn’t use often. At the wrong moment, it could burn, over stimulate. But his body craved intensity right now. His body craved another round with him, is what it craved.</p><p>Annoyance flared up in his gut. What the hell? I’m fucking jerking off for Sakurai? Give me a break! Issay yanked his arm out of the blankets, tucking his fist under the pillow he was using. His balls were tight and high, and his cock was twitching, begging for a few more strokes for its release.</p><p>He clenched his teeth. No. Fuck this shit. Sleep. His eyes squeezed shut, blocking out the red light of the digital clock. The silence was so thick, he’d hear the deafening tick if it were analog. Instead, the air rushed out of his nostrils in heavy gusts, a blend of agitation and unmet needs. His hips thrust, desperate for the denied contact.</p><p>FUCK! Issay punched a fist into his pillow, and threw off the coverlet and sheet, wrapping a hand around his erection. Artless, carnal, and pounding for glory. He’d resisted for so long, that was all he had remaining. His consciousness burned white with excitement, but not before replaying Sakurai’s trembling, frenzied cries of ecstasy. A final stroke and Issay arched backward, as if his soul wanted to launch out along with his explosive ejaculation. His hungry hips rocked, fucking the void of emptiness next to him as his orgasm slowed to a dribble. His breath was harsh, loud gasping when his head dropped.</p><p>Damn it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sakurai had been late down to breakfast, and the guys had already returned to their rooms. Once Issay left, he'd slept too deep. He'd woken to a knock on his door from U-ta, checking to see if he was OK.</p><p>    Issay kept his distance that morning. A wise move. Sakurai's mind had gone into denial blank-outs the moment he was alone, and he hadn't recovered. He didn't think he could face Issay in front of the others. Not their first time since last night. He tried to convince himself that it was no big deal what had happened between them, but it was. Beyond accepting he'd all-out fucked him (no claiming that it was venting pressure), they almost got busted together. Sex scandals were hard enough, but a sex scandal with another man leaking out... as famous as himself, too…</p><p>    He didn't talk to him on the train, either. Sakurai thought he would have once the others had settled into conversation or took naps, but he sat on the other end of the coach and read. Towering tracts of tree covered hills passed by the windows, and he ended up falling asleep, exhausted from sleep deprivation.</p><p>    The train slowed and pulled into the station. A recorded announcement informed them they had reached their destination. Sakurai woke from the lack of familiar movement and stretched, then hitched the travel tote on his shoulder. They met up on the platform when they disembarked, and cars came to take them to their hotel. Same routine, tour after tour. It’d become a known quantity.</p><p>    He sat in the car he was sharing, poking around with their schedule in his organizer. Here for two days, then leaving for Hokkaido on Monday morning. The weekends were busy, but during the week they had a moment to catch their breath and not zip around as much. Relax, have dinner, perhaps an old pub where hiding in a VIP room wasn't necessary. Recharge for the next wave.</p><p>    Roadies unloaded their gear from the trucks; speakers, lights, cables, amps, bits and pieces of countless stage objects and actual instruments came in on dolly carts. Toll’s drum kit was assembled according to his current lay out. Racks were arranged near each band member’s mark, in the wings where their assistants could supply them with the right guitar for each number. Sound engineers hooked up microphones and  audio equipment. Lights were calibrated and tested with stand-ins, then completed as they had their rehearsal. Bigger venues were later, but in the meantime, the sets weren’t as ornate. The main leg had few alterations from show to show. Simple shift of set lists kept it from getting monotonous.</p><p>    Their current album was complex, so their more gritty older tunes found their way into the lineup as padding. That was fine. He preferred it to be on the more heavy, esoteric side, but they were screwed with "Aku no Hana" at every venue and he was tiring of it. It was expected of them, their equivalent of an anthem. Ol' reliable. "SIX/NINE" was risky, pushed it to the edge. No guarantees. He got a rush out of that.</p><p>    Pre-show nerves hadn’t flared up yet. They had two performances in town- one scheduled for this evening, and a second tomorrow. Sound check went smoothly, but the lighting needed tinkering. The venue’s stage was narrower and deeper than usual. Imai worked with the engineer that was adjusting his guitar's monitor. He pulled a few riffs and shouting instructions, and U-ta took photos of him at work for the fan club’s magazine next month.</p><p>    Noon arrived, and they stopped for lunch. Staff had arranged a sushi buffet in the venue’s green room, and they lounged with the casual meal. Imai swigged a mouthful of his beer. “Let’s do something different tonight.”</p><p>    Sakurai wasn’t paying attention, and paused with his mouth full, confused for a moment. Different? He saw himself fucking Issay in a flash memory from last night. No. He shook the image from his thoughts and tried to look aloof. “Different? Different how?”</p><p>    Imai bit into an eel roll. “Yeah. Something different. A little fan service during LOVE LETTER. I’m up for it. It’ll spice things up. Keep it close to the PV though. I want to get laid if it's possible, with none of the bullshit.”</p><p>    Toll laughed. “Then you’d better not wear those hot pants you had a while ago. Or were they lederhosen?”</p><p>    Imai bounced a wadded up napkin off of Toll and returned to his discussion with Sakurai. “It shouldn’t affect the lighting, since my spot is ready to go, and you have a roving light. It’s not worth rehearsing. We’ll cut back on Issay… he was on for the entire encore yesterday, so he can do three songs tonight.”</p><p>    He didn’t respond other than a neutral grunt although he wasn't happy that Issay’s stage time was cut into like that. What can you do? It’s Imai. This is how he always does things. He just didn’t like it. Issay would receive his cut regardless of how long he was on stage. He was under contract for it, and it was set. Imai could have told Issay himself. Sakurai knew that he’d get stuck with that responsibility. He sighed. Well, it was only once, this evening.</p><p>    Issay wasn’t to be seen. He’d put in his hour at the stage rehearsal earlier, but headed into town when they were finished and skipped the green room lunch. Sakurai gave him the xeroxed hand written set list when he came back to shower and groom. Issay looked at Imai's revisions, but said nothing. He’d expected more of a response than that from him, but still wasn’t comfortable. Something felt ‘off’.</p><p>_____________________</p><p> </p><p>    Everything flowed well, with no tech issues. They had a good road team with them. They had to be. The band was facing intense pressure from the label, and they were being watched. The album had its controversy: it was yanked off of the sales shelves, due to lyrical content. No matter. It had resulted in sold out venues, and people scrambling to try to scalp the first press albums that had missed the recall, from pre-orders. It riled them up and had boosted sales. They had to watch their backs though, it was a delicate and dangerous wave to ride.</p><p>    The house was packed, and when he played around with Imai, it sounded as if they would climb the rafters. Sakurai wiggled his ass to the crowd and pulled off his suspenders, ducking and weaving. He dropped to his knees, half worshiping the guitar, half emulating that he could be blowing Imai if that guitar weren’t in the way. Uneventful, clean, no errors. And no thrills either. Another after party, and bar hopping.</p><p>    Sunday’s performance was very similar. In, out. The roadies were packing up the trucks before the dust settled. Monday morning they were off, a train to Hokkaido. Issay sat with Toll, chatting about drums, and never approached him.</p><p>    Everyone went their own ways when they weren’t practicing. Space was a luxury during tours, and you grabbed your opportunities while they were there. Imai would go to the Ramen Yokocho when they were in Sapporo and hit a couple of private shindigs in Susukino. He seemed to know bar and club owners in every city. Sakurai explored antique book stores, which were less of a risk of being mobbed at, but it wasn't easy. He'd taken to lying low and attending the ubiquitous VIP parties with good security. Cutting his hair off was a blessing in disguise- it offered him a bit more anonymity than the years with his signature long hair. He wasn’t kidding himself however, he still had to be careful.</p><p>    Gig night was Saturday, and after a few days to themselves, they were primed to hit the stage. Sakurai sat at his makeup table, staring at the set list he was handed with disbelief. Imai's notations in the margins informed him that he'd cut into Issay again. In a morning vote they changed it, putting the new tunes into the show, and swapping their older stuff for the encore. It meant that Issay would be out there for one song. Unless he was brought out in the encore for the hell of it, all he'd have left was the song he provided backups for on the album. Why the fuck did he do this? He claimed that he was feeling nostalgic and wanted to dabble in more of their early pieces. Sakurai didn’t buy that for a second.</p><p>    He couldn’t fight with Imai before hitting the floor. It’d fuck it for everyone. But damn it, he was pissed. What the hell was he playing at? And what was with Issay? He’d barely seen him in a week, despite that they were touring together. He was avoiding him- did he harbor regrets for what they'd done? Was that it? Did he scare himself? Fuck this shit.</p><p> </p><p>________________________________</p><p> </p><p>"Aikawarazu no "Are" no Katamari ga Nosabaru Hedo no Soko no Fukidamari" was a powder keg waiting to blow for Imai. Sakurai knew it. It was sensual, gyrating, like riding a train swaying through the inky darkness of night. It was a fuck track, one that he carried the vocals on, and his own creation. They’d worked as a group for years, and the drawback was they recognized each other’s vulnerability. He knew what set off his band mate. Imai wanted to keep from falling over that precipice while people watched, sacrificing his all-powerful hardass Rock star image he fancied for himself.</p><p>    He also knew that was exactly what he was going to do to him tonight, right in the middle of their concert.</p><p>    Sakurai had a streak of seeking revenge when power went out of his favor. The stage offered prime opportunity for it. Imai would loose face, but gain from it with the audience as he wallowed in humiliation… allowing him to get off scot-free. Or almost scot-free. He’d catch it from him afterward, but by then it was too late. It was far more effective than fighting with him as he dug his heels in deeper.</p><p>    It landed right past the mid point of their set tonight, intended to segue into smoother pieces from the heavier, more energetic beginning of the show. He had backup vocals, and Imai was at his mercy.</p><p> </p><p>    Once the bass hit the opening riff of the song, he sauntered over and stood outside of the narrow spotlight beaming down over Imai from overhead. It wasn’t a part of their choreography. The fans screamed, knowing something would happen. Imai’s hackles went up with the knowledge that he was standing there, but couldn’t turn around to find out what he was doing. A prime Sakurai maneuver. It rattled Imai and had him powerless.</p><p>    When he heard his cue for his contribution to the vocals, Sakurai slipped out of the darkness and spoke the heavy whispers cheek to cheek with him, sharing his microphone. He watched the hair on Imai’s arms stand on end with a sadistic smile. He had him. Sakurai ducked into the gloom, waiting. His next section got chimed in over the other side. A small tremor shot through Imai. He saw it at such close range, but the audience couldn't. Not yet, at least.</p><p>    Fingertips stroked along the back of Imai’s left arm, from the elbow to the soft, sensitive skin near his underarm where his sleeveless shirt had him exposed. He leaned forward just in time to see his eyes close and an intense shiver wrack through him. Shrieks from the crowd.</p><p>    Sakurai loomed over Imai, breathing down his neck. Imai trembled, eyes shut against the masses. It was worse if he had to see them eat up his reaction to Sakurai's touch. Fingers stroked a path from one shoulder blade to the other in a soft scratch. His hand drifted down to his lower back and snagged under the waistband of his pants, a feigned accident as he walked away.</p><p>    He left him high and dry, grappling for composure. He didn’t even have to check. Mission accomplished. Imai battled between arousal and panic at his extreme visibility, and humiliation that Sakurai had been pulling his strings again.</p><p>___________</p><p> </p><p>    Was the after party ever going to end? He'd put away too much to drink to try to purge the remains of his irritation. His best bet for getting out of the game he played this evening unscathed was to keep as visible as he could. Mingle at the reception he hadn’t wanted to attend at all. Imai wouldn't be able to approach him then. Once he was certain that Imai was pickled enough to not be a problem anymore, he worked his way out of the crowded VIP room and grabbed a taxi.</p><p>Grateful for a shower after that sardine can, he dried his hair with a thick, fluffy hotel bath towel. A soft knock rapped at his door. He peeked out the security viewer and saw Issay. “Coming,” Sakurai said, to avert Issay from having to knock again, and unlocked it. He entered and paced as Sakurai re-locked behind himself.</p><p>    “What the hell was that?!” Issay spat out in a loud whisper, intended to not be overheard in the hotel.</p><p>    He's angry? Why the fuck is he angry at me? His own annoyance resurfaced. He thought that he’d put it out, but it was smoldering in the background still. "What was that? You ditched me over a week ago, there on stage for your part, and nothing else. That’s all I’ve seen of you!"</p><p>    “Ditch you? I got shaved out of the tour for the past few shows running, and you’re off screwing around after Imai! Is it one of those things that you’ll go for anyone that is convenient? Do you chase the hardest challenge, or am I a risk now?” Issay was livid.</p><p>    “I wasn’t screwing around with Imai!” OK, so yeah, maybe it appeared that way from the outside, but he wasn’t. He didn’t. Wait a minute- why are we arguing? “You think I got Imai to drop you from the show because we fucked?” He was stunned.</p><p>    Issay stopped to breathe so he could ground himself, fingers on the bridge of his nose. "Isn’t that it? I’m out of the picture, and you’re off groping him up again. You took it out on me because you were pissed with him for vetoing your fan service… looks like the same old bullshit to me." He glared at Sakurai, then turned to leave. "Fuck this."</p><p>    The door closed behind him with a click, and Sakurai rubbed his temples, sighed, and threw the dead bolt. The alcohol hadn’t cleared his brain from the party earlier, but it still would have been confusing as all hell if he were stone cold sober. Are we even arguing the same topic?</p><p>___________</p><p> </p><p>    Issay went to his room. He needed the space. He was glad that he was on a different floor from Sakurai in this hotel. It was the first time they had spoken since they’d fucked last week. He wasn’t sure if that friction was anger from his turn on stage being cut short, Imai, or… a lover’s quarrel?</p><p>  No. That’s ridiculous. He shuddered. It felt as if he were loosing his mind… had no idea what he wanted or needed. He’d given them each space, trying not to blow the gig and their reputations. The next thing he knew, he’s sitting there watching Sakurai getting Imai off on stage. He was rattled- about what, he had no clue.</p><p>    Issay closed his eyes and let out the breath that he’d been holding. Sakurai was annoyed with Imai and did what he always does when he’s upset with him over control games. Which means… what they’d been doing together had been meaningless. A convenient place filler, a surrogate Imai.</p><p>    He sat in the wing chair, struggling with his thoughts and picking at the upholstery. He was upset that what they had didn't mean anything? Yeah, it wasn’t right to be a whipping boy to Sakurai’s frustrations with someone else. Do I want something more? Was he kidding himself that he hadn’t gotten his emotions involved? Issay sighed a heavy sigh. His head spun. I don’t want to deal with this shit. He was caught between the two of them in an old battle, his friendship going down the toilet…</p><p>while pining for him.</p><p> </p><p>    He’d begun to need him. Issay was overwhelmed with the realization forming. Oh fuck, this is not good. Sakurai and Imai’s relationship was complicated enough. You couldn’t tell how deep it ran, and it looked rather intimate. If it looks intimate as a bystander, knowing Sakurai, you can damn well bet that it’s a lot deeper than it seemed to be. He’d watched their chemistry for years; seen the sparks fly. Am I invading their world, the outsider? This confusion and uncertainty- is this what happens when you're involved with Sakurai?</p><p> </p><p>    Issay’s mind wandered to Imai. How cozy were they? Issay stared at the carpet with irritation. He’d never know for certain. Sakurai kept crisp boundary lines in that regard. Likely why Imai had kept him so close all these years. God, he felt so stupid. Why couldn’t he keep it compartmentalized, and when he was horny, fuck him? It was just sex after all. Sex in the safety of friendship, with a buddy.</p><p>    There was a knock at the door. Issay jumped in his chair. Get a grip. He went to the hotel room door and looked through the peep hole beneath the fire emergency evacuation plan plaque. Sakurai? He freaked out and stared into the hall in shock. Sakurai knocked again. Panic coursed through him, and he stammered, buying himself a moment. “J... just a second.”</p><p>Issay unlocked the deadbolt and the secondary chain lock.</p><p>    “Can I come in?” Sakurai asked. He looked flustered and weary. Issay stared, then let him in, realizing that he was being rude. He returned to the wing chair he had been ruminating in, leaving Sakurai to deal with the locks.</p><p>    Sakurai surveyed the room to orientate himself, then sat in a chair next to the small round table by the window. The air was odd between them. Issay heard Sakurai let out his breath in a loud gust through his nose, closing his eyes to steel his will, then he began.</p><p>    “What's going on? Something is wrong, for certain. I haven't ever had to handle this kind of problem before, and it’s freaking me out. We need to settle things, for the sake of our sanity, and for the others. For the show, and for the band. It’s not fair to anyone to keep this up, to keep bad blood running between us.”</p><p>    He was relieved at his approach. He could deal with this side of Sakurai. “OK, fair enough. I’ve been avoiding you all week. I don’t want to be known throughout history as that lover that busted up a good thing from the outside, the Yoko Ono that sank BUCK-TICK. It wasn't wise with all the press that’s been around, because I wouldn’t be able to hide that something had happened between us... and you... I figured that you weren't quite capable of doing so either, yourself.”</p><p>    “Oh, thank god. I thought you had gotten upset after the fact and were going to end it with me.”</p><p>A rush of warmth flowed into Issay’s chest at hearing Sakurai’s blurted out confession, but he tried to squash it. He couldn’t handle that yet.</p><p>    Sakurai continued. “Imai… I don’t know what's up with that asshole anymore. There was no valid reason for what he pulled. It was bullshit. I got so pissed with him… he’s been cutting into your time on stage with us… with me… that I got even with him. In retrospect, yeah, I see how it must have looked. But at that point you weren’t even speaking to me, avoiding me as much as you could.”</p><p>    Sakurai looked distraught. He always wore his heart on his sleeve. So the real question is, what was Imai doing? Why did he throw that curve ball at them? Did he know? And if he did… what did it mean to him? Fuck it. They were talking again- this was a step forward. He’d take it. God. What had become of them? This meant too much to him, and it scared the shit out of him.</p><p>    He stood and went over to Sakurai at the table. Issay gazed down at him, and their eyes met. His heart pounded. He stroked Sakurai’s hair, stopping at his nape to tug him close, then wet his lips with his tongue and claimed what he’d craved all week.</p><p>    Their lips met in a tense kiss, and parted. Sakurai looked into his eyes, trying to gauge what was happening between them, then dove headlong at him. Their lips crushed together, and Sakurai’s teeth nipped at his tongue, his lips. It had been a week since they had sex... far too long.</p><p>    He tore at Issay’s shirt, yanking the buttons out of their placket. As his hands found their way beneath the crisp cotton, Issay moaned a desperate groan of satisfaction, of need. God, it had been so goddamned long. “Fuck, I need you,” he told him. Sakurai cut him short, closing back in over his mouth. Their tongues stroked as if they were trying to consume each other.</p><p>    Issay pressed his body up against his friend’s as their tongue tips probed each other. He could feel Sakurai’s arousal growing as he ground against him, desperate to relieve the need building within his groin. His own cock thrummed with his pulse, aching to be freed, touched.</p><p>    “YES.” Sakurai groaned as Issay’s hand dove over the waist of his leather pants and closed over his length. His thumb trailed through the slick pre-cum.</p><p>    Sakurai worked at Issay’s pants at the same time, undoing the hook closure after his belt was unlatched. The dull, metallic grating of his zipper was lewd somehow. Fuck, this was too good. He’d missed the sensation of Sakurai’s hands, tongue. He needed to fuck, and fuck him hard.</p><p>    “How do you want this? What do you... how shall we end this?”</p><p>    “I DON’T CARE!” Sakurai growled through his grit teeth, almost more than was wise at that hour. “FUCK ME!”</p><p>    Issay pushed him to the bed, and Sakurai fell back hard, bouncing off of the mattress. His hips thrust up, in blatant invitation. Issay bent over Sakurai’s rigid cock, and flickered his tongue over the tip, licking up the bitter fluid that was welling up there. Sakurai’s face crushed into ferocious arousal. He was too far gone to hide how Issay affected him.</p><p>    Issay pulled off of him and stood up, panting. Sakurai radiated pure lust. He was magnetic. God, how he wanted him. He went into his bags, rifling through until he found a black zippered bag, the kind used for shaving toiletries. The zipper whisked open, but it wasn’t a shaving bag- another black condom, the same kind as last week’s, and a pillow pack of silicone emerged.</p><p>    He turned to his friend, dominant. “It’s my turn now. You had your chance last time.”</p><p>    It took Sakurai a moment to register what he said. Issay was demanding to fuck him up the ass. His lip curled in a feral, harsh expression of desire. “Fuck yes.” He startled Issay, but his rearing cock assured Issay that he wasn’t screwing with his head. He really wanted it.</p><p>    Issay didn't know all of Sakurai’s exploits over the years, but he understood enough about him. Sakurai wants to be nailed. He was shocked at the realization, but fuck it. His lover- yes, his lover- wanted what was in the offing. Who was he to complain or dicker over the details?</p><p>    He peeled the condom open. Sakurai took it from him and brushed his hand aside, rolling the protective latex on for him in a smooth stroke, to the base. The packet of lubricant was torn open in a matter of seconds. Sakurai had been squeezing it too hard in his excitement and it spurted thick silicone over his fingers. He made short work of reclaiming it and stroked it over Issay’s latex encased cock. Issay thrust forward at the sensation. Sakurai rolled onto his back, lifted his knees to his chest, and applied the rest of the overspilled lubricant to his ass. His fingers slipped into the opening, thrusting with experience. It was obvious that he'd dabbled and was open to it.</p><p>    When he finished applying the lubricant, he dropped the packet next to himself and reached his arms up to Issay, welcoming him. “Yes, I’ve had ass play before. It’s fucking amazing, if it’s done right… but no, just alone, or on the rare occasion, women pegging me so far. I’ve never taken a real, living man before.”</p><p>    Issay was overwhelmed by his confession, but remembered: Sakurai was the first he’d taken anally himself. It was a privilege, yes, but fitting. And oh god, did he want to taste this forbidden fruit, at least once with him.</p><p>    The thought of fucking Sakurai was both terrifying and arousing. He had to pause to regain his composure, to ground himself or they would fuck all of three minutes before he came. Issay’s eyes closed, and he breathed. He was terrified, but it was so perfect. It scared him how much it meant to perform this act with Sakurai, without even having to ask. He appeared to want it even more than he did. Fuck. This line of thought would have him coming the second his dick came into contact with him. Breathe. Breathe.</p><p>    Sakurai watched him struggle with his arousal, with his inner demons. He knew what it was like, your first experience topping another man. He’d went through it last time. Issay saw him embrace the realization he'd be on the receiving side… that beyond being good for him to enjoy it, it was his position indulge himself, to take. His cock twitched in the ready, happy to oblige.</p><p>    Issay positioned himself over Sakurai, who had decided to take while facing him. Their eyes locked. Issay suspected that he was making it difficult on purpose, to intensify the experience. Fine by him. GO FOR IT.</p><p>    “Don’t worry- I’m ready for you. Take me.” Sakurai whispered, his face crushing into a snarl of desire. Issay was nervous, but aligned himself over Sakurai’s entrance. He paused, more so for himself than for Sakurai’s sake, and applied another healthy shot of lubricant. Tentative probing thrusts rocked him past the ring of muscles with incredible ease. Sakurai bore down as he’d suggested to Issay before, to allow him entry... the only way to release those muscles to allow anything to pass.</p><p>    Sakurai's hot inner recesses clung to Issay’s cock. He fought to keep from loosing himself- there was one first time for him and for Sakurai, and that was it. To see, to remember every expression, every sound, everything... he wanted to burn it into his memory.</p><p>    As he sank in to his fullest length with little resistance, Issay sweat down his back and behind his knees. God, I won't last long. Was it the experience itself, or such a profound extension of trust held out to him after almost loosing what they’d shared?</p><p>    Issay’s balls settled into the crevice behind Sakurai’s opening, nested into the warmth of his body. He watched the delicate muscles in the flesh of Sakurai’s scrotum crawl, shift, and contract as his balls raised up into ejaculatory position. They swirled, and the seam between them became more pronounced; he was familiar with it from his own body’s responses… but it was so new, so strange to witness on another man. It was fascinating. And scarier to admit: he rather liked it.</p><p>    He enjoyed savoring the changing roles they took on as they pleasured each other. Dominant, then recipient, and back again. Aggressive, yes, either way. He never felt the sensation of being weaker, of loosing with Sakurai. They immersed themselves in the moment. Yes, he admitted it to himself- they were incredible lovers together.</p><p>    Sakurai shifted his hips with a pillow under himself to better accommodate the penetration he craved. He breathed, relaxing himself once again, and said “OK… I want you to pound me. Fuck me hard. I can take it… and I want it. Do me.” His lips twitched on the brink of a frenzy. Issay wasn’t sure how long he'd handle this level of intensity, but wow… he’d chosen a firecracker of a lover.</p><p>    Issay’s jaw dropped, panting in a way that seemed insufficient, too shallow. His cock swelled, and he pushed it in hard, grinding into Sakurai. He was already inside his depths, but the force of pushing that bit beyond all the way in had Sakurai gasping in pleasure. His voice broke, cracking from a groan into a guttural gasp of air exiting his lungs. Issay pulled back, sliding himself out about three quarters of the way, then paused.</p><p>    Sakurai struggled against himself not to beg for it again… so Issay waited. A sadistic smile curled the side of his mouth. “Say it!”</p><p>    Sakurai’s expression shifted from lust to repressed need, then he lost it. “TAKE ME! NOW!”</p><p>    Issay thrilled at his unvarnished demand. “Gladly.” He rocked his hips again and pierced in deep. God, this felt so incredible. He had no idea how Sakurai was so patient with him, feeling this hot, tight pressure. He was incapable of that level of restraint… and was relieved that Sakurai didn’t want him to hold back. Far from it, he was begging to be pounded.</p><p>Oh yeah, I can oblige.</p><p>    He retreated and thrust in again. There was a thrill, one he'd never experienced before, in this act. He thrust again and built into a rhythm. Sakurai glazed over and became distant and sank back into the pillow. He looked like he was entering ecstasy from being penetrated. His balls slapped into Sakurai’s ass with each movement, somewhat similar to being with a woman, but harder, rougher.</p><p>    Sakurai’s hips rolled in a subtle, circular grind as Issay fucked him. Sweat beaded up on his lip and forehead, and his head lolled. Issay settled into a slower rhythm, reducing the urgency that threatened to make all too brief their first time this way. He decided to change things up a bit, to see where he could take Sakurai.</p><p>    Issay kept up the general rhythm but changed the angle of penetration. His thrust began the same, then hooked ceilingward. Sakurai’s eyes opened from his drifting haze and went wide. His jaw dropped, and his breath rushed in, in a harsh gasp. He cried out. Issay was stunned by his response.</p><p>    With each hooking rock, Sakurai’s voice struck his ears with a lewdness that was almost physical. He realized that he had found his prostate with the new angle. Sakurai’s body scintillated from the probing stimulation, each pressuring thrust creating a sensation of near orgasm. The visual presentation of what he was experiencing was profound and erotic. Issay felt an overwhelming rush of… something… some kind of emotion he couldn’t name. It was like the intense rush from observing a work of art that had struck home with its beauty, the realness of it. What he saw took his breath away. Holiness. Yes… perhaps that. His expression was nothing short of divine ecstasy.</p><p>    Sakurai lost control of himself, and his hand found his own shaft. As it closed around tip, his gaze met Issay. Issay’s hair plastered to his cheekbones, soaked with perspiration. His gaze flickered down to Sakurai’s hand, which was stroking his cock, focusing on the underside towards the head.</p><p>    Issay watched Sakurai’s brief masturbation- a few strokes, and he was coming. His ejaculate arced over his torso, spattering in pools clear to his collar bone. His back arched as his body convulsed with shocks of pleasure, and the spasming of his genitals caused his depths to clench tight. It became almost impossible to thrust anymore in his vice-like grip, and he hit his own climax.</p><p>    The room dimming, filling with dark spots was the last thing Issay saw.</p><p> </p><p>___________________________________</p><p> </p><p>Sakurai wrung out a washcloth and folded it on Issay’s forehead. He’d been out cold for close to five minutes, and he was a little worried. At first he thought he had just collapsed, half onto him, half on the bed, but after a minute or two, he didn’t move or make much sound. Sakurai disengaged their bodies and rolled him over into a more comfortable position and brushed the hair out of his eyes.</p><p>    He returned to the bathroom for another wet washcloth and some tissue and removed the condom from Issay’s semi-erect cock. Unconscious, and he’s still hard. Sakurai restrained a laugh at the sight. He tissued him off, then wiped him down with the warm cloth, cleaning up the remains of their orgasms. Oof, is he going to have a headache. He dried him with a towel, then covered him with the blankets and went for a quick shower.</p><p>    When he returned with his hair wet, Issay was regaining consciousness. “Mnnnhh…” he reached up to take the damp cloth off of his forehead. “What the… how…?”</p><p>    “You passed out when you came. Think your blood pressure spiked too high from the intensity. You’ve been out for over…” Sakurai sat on the side of the mattress and looked at the clock, “12 minutes. How do you feel? Are you OK?”</p><p> </p><p>    “Yeah. My head was splitting a couple of minute ago, but it’s going away.” Sakurai laid down in the bed with him and Issay stretched. “That was… mnnh…” he massaged his left temple. “That was unbelievable.”</p><p>    Sakurai grinned a slow, lecherous smile. “I can tell it was.”</p><p>Issay rolled over onto his stomach, propped himself up on his elbows, and kissed Sakurai. A shiver of desire flushed through him.</p><p>“Careful. I could go for round two myself, but you’ve not recovered yet. Rest.”</p><p>    Issay laid back. "I can’t believe I want more." He looked embarrassed. "Same as last time. Ended up having to jerk myself off because I was climbing the walls and would have been awake the whole night."</p><p>    Sakurai laughed, slipping under the covers, and stroked his rib cage. Issay’s body responded to his touch, and his hard-on lifted the blankets. “You were gone, dead to the world, but your cock didn’t want to go down. You stayed hard for quite a while afterwards.” He crackled with waking desire.</p><p>    “It wasn’t enough.”</p><p>    The humor on Sakurai’s face faded. Lust took its place. The hand that had been stroking Issay’s belly curled into a claw, and he dragged his nails over his diaphragm, to his chest, then spiraled his index and middle fingernails around one of his nipples. When he got to the center, he pinched and twisted it to make it stiffen into a point, then sucked.</p><p> </p><p>    “That isn’t helping if you want to keep things low key.” Issay grabbed Sakurai’s hair and tugged. He refused to release, his teeth clamped at the base of the stretched, taught nipple, pulling the flesh of Issay’s chest. “Ahhgh! Fucking hell...” Issay writhed, arching into it.</p><p>    He pushed Sakurai off of himself and got on top, his hard cock trapped against soft belly, next to Sakurai’s hip. Issay kissed a trail down his jaw to a spot he shivered in reaction to and stopped to suck there. Sakurai arched his neck, offering it to him, moaning. A stinging ache flared as Issay’s teeth nipped. He drew away with a sucking pop. Sakurai’s neck reddened, flushing purple in an obvious hickey. “Have fun covering that with your makeup kit.”</p><p>    Sakurai huffed a laugh. “You asshole!” He would. And he'd glory in knowing that anyone close by would see it shining through though it won’t be as noticeable from the distance. It’d keep them wondering. He was about to return the favor, but decided against it. It’d be too obvious.</p><p>    Issay slid off of him and propped up against the headboard. He wrapped his fist around Sakurai’s cock, Sakurai clutched his, and they stroked as they kissed, keeping it simple for Issay’s sake.</p><p>    They broke off the kiss to watch each other. He thrust, remembering the time Issay jacked him off… or rather, when Issay had him jack himself off. That memory had burnt into him to the point that he dreamed about it at night. His climax tried to overtake him though he fought to slow it. He panted, trying to think of anything but that evening. It didn’t work. He hushed his gasping cry to not be overheard as his semen spattered the sheets, thinner and less heavy than earlier. Though nursing traces of the headache, Issay came, spilling over his knuckles in a flood as he watched Sakurai orgasm. He shook with tremors, biting his lip.</p><p> </p><p>    “I have to get going...” Sakurai smiled. “there’s no way I can stay, with this damned bite you gave me.” He sat up, pulling on his pants and socks.</p><p>    “It looks good on you.” A pillow landed hit him with a whack, and he laughed. “Hey! Watch it! I’m convalescing!”</p><p>    Sakurai’s shirt tugged over his head. “Jackass.”</p><p>________________________</p><p> </p><p>    Sakurai took the elevator to his floor and fumbled with the key, unlocking the door. He felt fantastic, satisfied. The locks thunked shut, and he kicked off his shoes and walked into the bathroom, flicking on the light. He touched the sore, aching blood blistered bruise on his neck, and turned to the mirror. He was radiant.</p><p>    His face blanched, horrified. Afterglow. After… Issay. He’d wandered through the halls like that, oblivious. Thank god he didn’t bump into someone out there!</p><p>He pulled himself together, dragging his hands off of his mouth, and gave closer inspection to his neck’s damages. He whistled. That was a hickey, all right. A rather large, masculine looking one at that. He’d shown up with hickies before in the morning, but this… this was the end all of hickies. A thrill darted through him and he almost giggled. I'm sporting a hickey from a man, and proud of it? No, not from “a man”, from a BUDDY. Creeped out, he absorbed the situation, the heels of his palms pressed into his eye sockets. Oh yeah, you are fucked now, dude.</p><p>But he still liked it.</p><p>________________________</p><p> </p><p>    Issay’s migraine was hovering at the edge of his awareness; fading, a ghost of pain like the ozoney aftermath of a passing rainstorm- the plants, ground, trees, the earth itself remembered it. He spun the shower knob and stood under the mist. That helped. As he applied a glob of shampoo, he saw the washcloths that Sakurai had used to clean him up when he had fainted, folded up on the sink. He paused for a moment his sudsing, nervous, and not even sure why. He’d had a chance to get more of it out of his system tonight with Sakurai, unlike before where he spent the night entertaining himself with his hand. Issay rinsed his hair, poured conditioner into his palm and worked it through. It’d been simple, uncomplicated. Their bodies just wouldn't give up, so they catered to his injury and kept on rutting.</p><p>    The thin, brittle bar of white hotel soap lathered up, and he tossed it into the shower’s built-in dish. His heart lurched. The flush of an embarrassed but aroused blush made him even more aware of what had happened this evening. Issay lingered, rinsing far longer than necessary, lost to thought.</p><p>    He’d marked Sakurai tonight. He could tell himself it was kink, pushing boundaries… but in the back of his mind he heard the truth over and over in a loop: he marked him as territory after watching him with Imai. Who he was establishing his turf to- Sakurai, Imai, or the world at large?</p><p> </p><p>    The problem was, he didn’t feel a need to possess him. At least, that was what he was telling that screaming shard of himself. He wasn’t his… boyfriend. That sounded odd. They weren’t dating, exclusive.</p><p>    Yes, it struck him, they were exclusive. It wasn’t deliberate, but… they were not seeing anyone else at all, and had been screwing around for… shit. No. Months? Yes, almost three months now. Sure, there'd been a big gap when they’d avoided each other, dancing in circles and hiding. They seemed to do that a lot. It wasn’t a surprise either. Let alone orientation, what kind of guy fucked a buddy happy as can be, without stopping to wonder why they were doing it?</p><p>Issay turned off the shower. He toweled himself then hung it over the towel rod, and like a magnet, his eyes doubled back to those washcloths from earlier. They cared about each other. Things were getting a great deal more complicated.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The lights shifted, burned his eyes as their team made adjustments. Band practice while they checked the lighting; tour routine had kept him occupied all morning. The show this evening was their second in town- the final gig in this region, then they were moving on to the next. The lighting engineers gave thumbs up, and lunch was called. He put down the notes he was working on and headed into the wings, tossing his empty water bottle into the trash.</p><p>    Hidehiko fell into stride next to him. “Want to go grab some burgers? There’s a pub near here that has great fries. Come on.”</p><p>    Sakurai welcomed the distraction from his own thoughts. “Give me 5 minutes to tidy up.” They separated, and Sakurai went to the men's room and scrubbed his face and combed his hair. That’s better. He was worn out from last night, and the cold water helped revive him.</p><p>    He met Hidehiko out at the secure side entrance, and they took a taxi to an American style pub that offered a selection of microbrew made on premises. Sakurai chose a dark beer as they waited for their food orders to arrive and discussed the set list for this evening. He was biting into the burger on soft pumpernickel he’d ordered when Hidehiko changed the subject.</p><p>    "Looks like you’ve been busy.” His face was deadpan, but Sakurai knew what he meant. He’d not bothered to try to cover the mark he had on his neck yet, since it was staff only this morning at the arena. They could live with it.</p><p>    Sakurai smiled a subtle smile of amusement. “Yeah.”</p><p>    “Who was she? Wild night by the look it. Pick up a girl at the party?” Sakurai didn’t register Hidehiko’s penetrating gaze, focused on eating. Hidehiko sipped his beer, waiting for a reply that never came. “Something is afoot. Imai is trying to come off like he’s all cool and aloof, but he’s bristling and doing stupid shit, and fucking around with all the original plans; you turn up with a glaring hickey on a show day, and Issay…” He put his glass on the cardboard coaster, and sighed. “I just can’t get to the bottom of it.  What the hell it is with everyone?”</p><p>    Sakurai bit into his burger to buy himself some time and braved facing Hidehiko. They made eye contact, and he knew that Hidehiko had a damned good idea of at least some of what was happening. Fuck. A chill went down his back. “I’m not sure.” He sighed. “You’re right though. Shit is going down.”</p><p>    "Care to elaborate?”</p><p>    Sakurai prodded the half plate of fries that remained, uncertain of what to say, but really needed a friend to talk to at this point. “I… not here. Not a good idea. We could be overheard.”</p><p>    He didn’t press it. “OK. We can go for a walk after we’re done here.”</p><p> </p><p>_________________</p><p> </p><p>    Sunlight filtered through the trees at the park. They sauntered in silence. Sakurai was uncomfortable starting the conversation, but needed to talk. Hidehiko had seen him like this before and was concerned. Sometimes it heralded a burst of creativity outside the usual limitations he enforced on himself. He’d pushed him through those blocks before when they were working on lyrics to his own compositions. The different chemistry from Imai’s gave him room for experimenting with new expression. Hidehiko hoped that rapport would help smooth things out before whatever was happening ended up causing larger problems for the band.</p><p>    “Imai… I don’t know what the fuck is going on with Imai. It’s the same old bullshit that he always pulls. This has been brewing for months.” Sakurai evaded the issue. He kicked at a drift of dead leaves caught on the grassy edge of the cement walk path.</p><p>    “I don’t think so. If you’d said that this past spring, all right. I might have bought it. But there’s more to it than that. He’s been a human barricade against Issay since the second show of the tour, and you two have been at each other like you’re a snake and a mongoose preparing for battle. My gut tells me he may have guessed you’ve been sleeping with Issay, and won’t admit that he’s attempting to get rid of him.”</p><p>    Sakurai froze in his tracks and looked at Hidehiko in shock. “What?”</p><p>    "Don’t worry, you’ve been hiding it well. But I know you. And I’ve been noticing your comfort level has changed... it's a lot more than it used to be, or what you extend to other people. I’ve just done the math.” Their stroll took them to a lotus pond. Ducks swam near tall cattails and drifted away, spooked by their presence. He sat on the ground and stretched his legs out, leaning back on his elbows. The water glittered with reflected sunlight. Sakurai joined him, sitting closer to where the ducks had been, picking a blade of grass and fidgeting with it, shredding it in thin strips.</p><p>    “I won’t let it get out. I’m not even sure what we’re even doing. Nothing else has changed though. Think it's been an experiment… or… I don’t know. It’s like… it’s been more peaceful than if it were some girl. He’s quiet, and safe. He’s not out for my name, or for a pint of blood. I haven’t had that in a long time. Maybe I never have. It’s been surprisingly comfortable… a vacation from the bullshit.” He tossed the torn up grass away and picked a white clover blossom, plucking the cone shaped petals one by one from their calyx as he spoke.</p><p>    “We used to suck the nectar from those when I was little.” Hidehiko gestured towards the flower Sakurai was dismembering and smiled. “Can see why the bees like 'em.” He brushed the grass with the palm of his hand, feeling the tips bend and spring back. “You and Issay don’t concern me. You’re fine. What I am concerned of however, is Imai. He’s been acting like…” Hidehiko was at a loss.</p><p>    The blossom yielded its last floret and was discarded for another. Sakurai sniffed the cloying fragrance and spun the flower between his index and thumb. It wasn’t fully developed; a patch of petals never matured, leaving a bare gap on the side. “I can't figure out what to do about him. Imai has like a constant speed bump, at every corner. And Issay…” he fidgeted and threw the clover into the lake where it splashed, floating and attracting the ducks that thought he’d thrown something edible. “It sort of started…” he raked his hands through his hair, uncomfortable at the intimacy of their conversation. “It all sort of started with Imai.”</p><p>    Hidehiko turned towards him with his brows knit in wariness. The air crackled with tension, but he said nothing, and Sakurai continued. “Oh, I’d gotten pissed at Imai, and was with Issay, trying to relax and forget it, and we got talking. He’s who I turn to when something is upsetting me. Keeps me from killing someone. Then… it just happened. Went off into uncharted territory.”</p><p> </p><p>    Hidehiko didn’t buy it, but didn’t share his thoughts. He had a feeling that Sakurai had finally blown after too many mixed signals from Imai, and neither of them were even aware it had been happening, or were in complete denial of it. Either way, there had always been something unique to their relationship, he and Imai. Perhaps this was for the best, at least for the moment. He stood up and knocked the grass clippings from his jeans.</p><p>    “Well, be careful and watch out for Imai. He could be sensing what is happening between you at some level, and… and he’s being Imai. Let’s leave it at that.”</p><p>    Sakurai squinted at Hidehiko, the bright sun at his back. “OK.” He got up, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “We should head to the venue. It's going to be difficult to get in unnoticed, the later it gets.”</p><p> </p><p>___________________________________</p><p> </p><p>The arena wasn’t as full as their first night, but it was still packed. The low buzz of chattering fans rumbled back stage, announcing their presence. You didn’t have to see the throng to know they were there. Sakurai warmed his voice up and had the usual pang of excitement and nerves. His thoughts were distracted though. The talk with Hidehiko earlier kept replaying in his mind.</p><p>    Imai. You couldn't tell which end was up, even if he told you. Too much going on there. He’d always thought business took precedence with him. He couldn’t figure out if that was the truth. Hot and cold, pushing and yanking, putting up a brick wall then walking away. It made no sense. What the hell did he want? His gut reaction screamed for him to retaliate, but it wasn’t wise. The down side to rank.</p><p>    Would he do the same if he were in charge? Hard to tell, but there had been benefit to Imai’s sharp, harsh domineering. It solidified their efforts, at least, to the outside world. Gave them a more honed direction, an edge as a unit. He wouldn’t have stuck around through all the shit otherwise. Sakurai knew it helped them get noticed in the industry… and he wasn’t interested in carrying that load himself. Bureaucracies were tiresome, but Imai loved to lock horns with them for kicks.</p><p>    Sakurai loved being a rebel too… but his way was more direct. He adored flouting social norms, particularly if it turned him on in the process. The win-win side of his career. Where else could he increase his income every time he shocked the hell out of people? It created a safe vent for his natural tendencies. He was made for this.</p><p>    The familiar surge of sexual excitement flowed through him, alternating with the waves of nerves. He couldn’t separate the sensation of sexual arousal anymore from the huge range of emotions that flare up on stage... the line blurred as the years had passed. Being out there had become a fetish, one that he had not expected to form. Was it this that he was craving so desperately? He’d never found a thrill that matched what he got out of breaking taboos with Imai. Imai got off on it too- that was obvious.</p><p>    The question was: was it homophobia that drove him to resist and veto it? Was he that afraid of what others thought? That didn’t seem quite like it was the answer. Was he just trying to keep things balanced, instead of spiraling into Sakurai’s decadence? Yeah, that was a possibility too.</p><p>    Curtain. Toll strut out as the lighting changed and their intro thrummed through the sound system. Hidehiko, Yuta, and Imai followed; Imai producing a shrieking dissonance with his guitar, his face deadpan and aloof. He waited for his cue, then strode to his mark through the darkness. The piece ended, and the lights snapped on, flooding over him. Show time.</p><p> </p><p>_____________</p><p>    Issay watched them go out from a vantage point in the wings. The audience cheered louder than if they were watching the game deciding goal being scored at a sporting event when Imai and Sakurai went out. He reclined against the tall bar chair that he sat in and followed the show. Sakurai greeted the masses with the usual concert bull crap- how great the city’s fans were, were they ready to party, and so forth. Somehow, they seemed to be able to muster more raucous cheers with each line spouted. Issay was certain that more than a few would be leaving there hoarse by the time the night was through.</p><p>    A few tunes later, he got up and hid further into the recesses of the wings to warm up and keep moving to maintain his energy. Scales, vocal exercises, bending, stretching. Similar to attending a fest where you had to wait for your own band's turn, Issay paced, watching the others perform. Get that engine revving and wait.</p><p>    At last the signal came for him to take the stage. Sakurai smiled to him in welcome and introduced him to the cheering crowd. The band struck into the melody, and Issay had a strange crawling sensation as if something was wrong. The air itself felt strung tense like a guitar string, vibrating with an awkward energy that he couldn’t place. His stomach knotted up, and he stole a glance over at Sakurai.</p><p>    Sakurai was staring at him, with a devilish twinkle in his eye. Issay’s heart lodged into his throat. Oh, shit- he's up to no good. He knew that look, and it was a bad omen for anyone in his path. The hair on his scalp stood on end. The song started without change flowing along with the practiced routine as always. He had to have imagined it. No. Don’t be an idiot. You know him too well to discount your gut. Stay alert- it’s your only chance of surviving whatever he’s got planned.</p><p>  Shit. Shit shit shit. His heart wouldn’t slow down at all. Half of the efficacy of being Sakurai’d was not having a clue when he would strike. Your own fears drawn sharp and tight, making the actual salvo when it occurred that much more exquisite. Come on, ground. Relax. He’s fucking with your head.</p><p>    The bridge arrived where there were no vocals. Sakurai stepped behind him and slipped his arms around his chest, above his waist. Issay’s tension rose, the familiar sensation of his lover’s hands upon him, but in a new, foreign environment: on public display. There was only so much of their relationship that he could allow others to see. He squashed down the terror and arousal that threatened to take control.</p><p>    Sakurai tugged, pulling Issay against his body, and nuzzled against his neck. Calm down, stay cool. And then… Sakurai cried out a shriek into his microphone over Issay’s shoulder, so sexual in nature it was blinding. He recognized it at once. It was the sound that he’d made when he came last night, just a lot louder, unrepressed, since there was no way that he would get in trouble for being too loud here. Issay’s eyes rolled back in his head; he had to close his eyes to conceal it from becoming public property. His knees went weak and tried to buckle beneath him.</p><p>    He sensed his laugh, more than heard it. Sakurai imprisoned him, rocking his hips against his ass, shimmying his groin into him. He clung to him, no escape... intimate, but invisible to the audience. All they saw was the obvious- he was being held. Sakurai's voice vibrated through his back from the contact as the verse started up again, and he felt something else, to his horror. Issay was getting a hard-on. The rush, the thrill coursed straight to his crotch at Sakurai’s cry, but he’d been too overwhelmed to register it, too busy trying to hide his swooning to notice that his cock swelling. But now it was becoming a problem. He was in front, in full view, in snug tailored clothing without a bit of concealment.</p><p>    Issay twisted in Sakurai’s arms to face him, but cheated his torso out to make it appear as if this was part of the choreography, and Sakurai turned it into a tango. He willed himself down from the dangerous precipice, and by the ending note, his erection had receded. Oh, relief. Tonight, he was glad for Imai’s set list interference for once. He couldn’t take a six song encore’s worth of that action.</p><p>    Sakurai tugged him into a spin, back into his arms. “That… was for the hickey you gave me last night,” he whispered into his ear, then squeezed his ass with a hand before releasing him. A fresh shiver wracked him, and Sakurai laughed. White hot emotion coursed through Issay. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill him or fuck the living daylights out of him.</p><p> </p><p>_____________</p><p> </p><p>    Another after party. Every city they traveled to, there were after parties as if they'd never held a concert before and had to celebrate. They’re a band- they party. It was strange when he thought about it, to have constant compulsory parties and be expected to club crawl afterwords. When he was younger, it was a definite perk, but time wore on, it grew tedious. The hickey on his neck was itching again. He’d remembered to double-check the conceal job when he to freshened up and changed, but as expected, it wasn’t hidden. He tossed a tour towel over his shoulders. There. That did the trick.</p><p>    Sakurai sipped the beer that he’d been handed. A hand fell on his bicep, and Issay leaned close to him and said “I will see you… later.” Sakurai glanced over his shoulder and saw the challenge in Issay’s eyes. A ripple of excitement warmed him.</p><p> </p><p>__________________________________</p><p> </p><p>    It was after midnight. Sakurai had left the party hours ago, and he found himself freaking out. He showered, styled his hair just so; realized that he was grooming himself up for Issay, panicked, and stopped. He paced through his hotel room back and forth, unable to sit still. After several minutes of pacing, he went to splashed cold water on his face, and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. Relax. Just relax. He’s not coming. A pang of desperation shot through his stomach and chest. No. This is Issay! He’s just your friend. Get a grip. Relax. Calm down. It’s Issay. You’ve known him for years.</p><p>    He brushed his teeth. There, see? The mint makes you feel better. OK. He checked his hair again, then looked around the bathroom, searching for something… but he wasn’t sure what the hell it was. He’d forgotten. He rubbed his face and huffed out a heavy breath he’d been holding. Get a grip! A soft tap at the door nearly made him jump out of his skin and he panicked, held out his hands, and steadied himself. OK, OK, relax, just breathe, relax. Come on, dude. Relax.  </p><p>    He looked out the peep hole- as if he didn’t already know who it was, then fumbled with the dead bolt, almost unable to undo the chain. His hands felt alien, like they weren’t a part of his own body. He closed his eyes, and breathed a grounding breath, then opened the door.</p><p>    Issay came in without asking, closing the door behind him. They stared at each other, and Sakurai found that he was barely breathing. His mouth salivated, and he swallowed and closed his eyes. His breath began to get labored, the rise and fall of his chest exaggerated… he could feel it. He must look like a mad man. The thought made him open his eyes again, and his eyes locked with Issay’s. Issay’s eyes burned with unguarded lust. The air was knocked out of his lungs in shock, and he took a huge breath in through his mouth. He was panting. They hadn’t even touched each other yet, and he was panting, right where they stood in the doorway.</p><p>    They lunged at each other, frantic, tongue against tongue. Sakurai’s hands had found the sides of Issay’s face as they kissed, scrambling for closer contact. Issay pinned him up against the wall with his body, and his arms wrapped around Sakurai’s torso, then slid down to his hips, pulling him against himself as if he wanted to merge into him if he could.</p><p>    Their lips parted and met, consuming kisses that weren’t enough to satisfy the need that burned them alive. Sakurai’s hands stroked through Issay’s hair,  petting, tugging. Issay’s hands seemed to want to try to take Sakurai’s shirt off, but kept tugging it back down by accident and pawing at him. Sakurai’s knees bent, and he sank to the floor, right where they were, and dragged Issay with him. Issay was on top of him, grinding through their clothing, and still struggling with his shirt; the flat of his tongue stroking against Sakurai’s. “Oh my god, I want you!” he said between their kisses, almost impossible to understand. He forced himself back and they stared at each other, panting through clenched teeth.</p><p>    Issay’s face was flushed, a glitter of unmistakable desire in his eyes, his lips swollen from their rough kisses. Sakurai was on his back, with Issay straddled over one of his legs. He reached up and unfastened Issay’s pants, and tugged at them. Issay kneeled up and helped take them off, then Sakurai took his own off, and pulled his shirt off over his head.</p><p>    Issay’s thumb crushed Sakurai’s lower lip, rubbing it. He took Issay’s thumb into his mouth, and sucked on it, closing his eyes in pleasure. Issay withdrew it, and their mouths locked. They rolled on the floor, not from an effort of trying to, but from their bodies writhing against each other. Sakurai’s shoulder crashed into the wall with a loud thunk. They’d traveled as far as possible in that direction and he’d gotten shoved into the corner against the door, bumping his head and making the security chain clack against the door jamb.</p><p>    "Let’s get away from this damned door.” He pushed on Issay’s shoulder to get him to move off of him, and stood. He offered Issay a hand up, and they stumbled over to the bed, dizzied from their passion. They sat on the edge of the bed, renewing their kisses. Sakurai slid his hand up Issay’s chest, then slipped his ring and middle finger into Issay’s mouth, where Issay stroked them before pulling them out and closing his mouth over Sakurai’s once more.</p><p>    Sakurai tugged away from the insistent kisses, and pushed Issay onto the bed, on his back. Issay got the hint, and shifted himself into the center of the bed, and Sakurai straddled over him backwards, and leaned forward, taking Issay’s cock into his mouth. Issay placed one hand on Sakurai’s thigh, and took his cock with the other hand, lifting his head up and guiding it to his own mouth. He moaned, and the sensation of his voice vibrating over his cock made Sakurai shiver. It took great effort to not thrust into his mouth from the feeling, so he focused on pleasuring Issay with his own mouth. He wasn’t sure which he liked better- the sensation of giving, or receiving- but together at the same time was mind blowing… and very hard to control.</p><p>    He pulled off of Issay’s cock with a pop, wiping the drool that had gone down his chin. “Wait! Hold off for a minute. I’m going to come!”</p><p>    Issay ignored him and held onto his hips.</p><p>    "Come on! I’m going to… oh…” Issay’s mouth was magic. His tongue stroked Sakurai’s cock, upside down from their positioning against each other. The underside of his cock rubbed against the textured roof of his mouth, and the flat of his tongue rocked as he sucked, stroking the head from side to side. He couldn’t handle it… and telling him, knowing he was deliberately not pulling away amped the intensity up too much. His body clicked into that point where he was going to come, like it or not. “Please… I can’t stop! Unless you want a mouth full, pull off now!”</p><p>    Sakurai couldn’t believe it. Issay was warned, but wasn’t going to pull away. He was shocked… and incredibly aroused. He bent down, licking the tip of Issay’s cock, which was covered in pre-cum and rubbed his lips against the crown.</p><p>    The fire built in his chest, and shot to his genitals, blazing a hot, explosive path. His balls pulled tight up into his body, ready for action… and he came. Issay’s tongue rolled over the head of his cock and caressed the top of his shaft as pulse after pulse filled his mouth. Sakurai shook and cried out a broken shriek of pleasure, trying to keep it down so he wouldn’t be heard through the walls. Wracking with aftershocks, he tried to lick Issay’s cock again, but barely made contact, then collapsed onto his elbows over to Issay’s side, resting his head on Issay’s hip.</p><p>    "Did… did… did you swallow?!” Sakurai whispered against Issay’s hip. His head spun.</p><p>    A pause. Silence. Sakurai continued to heave and pant, to get his wind back. “Yeah.” Issay’s quiet answer made his eyes roll back. He couldn’t believe that he did it… and it aroused the hell out of him, as well as horrified him.</p><p>    He fell over onto his side, off of Issay, and propped up on one of his elbows. “Oh my god. Oh. Wow. I didn’t expect… I… oh, shit. Wow. I… god, I feel like shit saying this, but… I’m not ready to do that. Return the favor, I mean. I… I just can’t. I’m not ready. We just went with it tonight- unplanned and all- and… well, I’d just expected we’d finish each other off with our hands.” He felt his face flush with humiliation at hearing his own words.</p><p>    Issay sat up, and propped himself against the headboard, and watched his friend’s floundering. “You done?” Sakurai fell silent. He wasn’t sure how to respond. Issay continued. “I did that because I was turned on, and I wanted to do it. I’m not expecting you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. You should know me better than that by now.”</p><p>    Sakurai closed his eyes, his head hung, and blushed deeper, struggling for words. He let out a heavy breath. “I… I’m still adjusting to all of this. It’s been difficult. I just…” he sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “The more time we spend together… the more we do this… this, it’s going from the world of ‘it happened by accident’ to something entirely else. Jacking off together, I can chalk down to dudes taking things a bit far, but still doing dude things. No problem. Anal… well, yeah that one I’ve explored on my own and with women, so it was sort of known territory for me, one that I could give an excuse for. Swallowing… that’s… that’s the point that you’re giving to a man in a completely submissive way. You have to want to pleasure him that way to be able to get into it. I’ve always seen it as one of those things that desperate fans did to buy your attention, but didn’t really like doing- they just did it because you were you, you know? And then this… we…” He dropped his face into his palms, covering his eyes. “We… to be honest, I thought about it, and I froze. I wasn’t expecting this kind of action, had deliberately avoided thinking about it. I’ve been having a lot of trouble coming to terms with what has been happening... us.”</p><p>There. He said it. The elephant in the room: their relationship. Us. He’d never intended to have a relationship with him, but… it had happened. Here they were. “I… fuck. I’m sorry. That sounds all wrong. It’s not what I want to say.” Sakurai took a few breaths to ground. “OK. I guess we need to talk about this. How the hell can I say ‘take it slow’ with how we’ve been together? That’s just stupid. And unfair. I’ve gone along this entire time trying to convince myself that we were just blowing off some pressure… and yeah, we’ve definitely been doing that. It’s been fucking amazing.” He stopped, and flopped onto his back, his knees still over the side of the bed where he’d been sitting.</p><p>    “…and it’s starting to feel different.” Issay finished his thought for him.</p><p>    “Yeah.” Sakurai rolled his head to the side and looked at his friend. “So now what?”</p><p>    Issay sighed. “I’ve been struggling with this myself. It started out as ‘Hey, this is pretty good. Fuck it.’ Then it became ‘Hey, this is REALLY good. Fuck it, I want more.’ I found my body craving more after our nights would end, and realized that it wasn’t MORE sex I was craving, it was sex with YOU that I wanted…” he fought himself to continue speaking what he’d been avoiding for so long, and steeled himself. “…what I needed.”</p><p>    They danced around in circles from the truth that neither one of them wanted to say. It was so easy to cover it up, ignore it, candy coat it with platitudes that they were just being modern urbanites, living the night life of their careers. “So, what do we do?” Issay asked.</p><p>    Sakurai watched the emotions play across his friend’s face as he spoke. He reached out his hand and touched Issay’s ankle bone, stroking his fingertips along the curved shape, and over the tendons. “Well… right now as it stands, all the changes that could happen have already happened. I don’t know if this is where you stand, but I don’t think that either of us were actually gearing towards a house in the country kind of thing from each other at any point in the game. It’s not like I’m expecting you to show up with a bouquet of roses and a bottle of champagne, nor the other way around. And we’ve been on the same page about not outing this for either of our career’s or band’s sake. There’s no point.” He continued to stroke Issay’s ankle, and trailed his fingers over his Achilles tendon, then up his calf. “I still want this… whatever it is.”</p><p>Issay’s face shone with a complex intensity for a moment, then he smiled. “You fucking got off and left me high and dry over here. You still owe me one, dude.”</p><p>    Sakurai got up and climbed over Issay on his hands and knees, face to face. “I’m still not going to swallow, you know.” His eyes sparkled with mischief.</p><p>    Issay darted a kiss to him and laughed. “Asshole.”</p><p>    “I will do this however.” And crawled backward, kneeling straddled over Issay’s thighs. He stroked his cock, dragging his knuckles over it from the base to the tip of its underside. Issay was already somewhat hard again, having not had any release earlier, and he responded to Sakurai’s touch, flexing his hips forward and hardening. Sakurai withdrew his hand, and Issay’s cock twitched. He then stood up, smiling, and knocked Issay for a loop. Where the hell is he going?</p><p>    He went across the room and opened the travel bag on top of a luggage rack tucked into the closet and pulled out a shopping bag from the top. He must have stuffed it in after they were already here, judging by where it was in the bag. Plastic crackled, and the sound of staples popping out of a plastic display blister pack, then he turned with his hands hidden behind his back, and came back to the bed. He was grinning an evil grin that spelled he was up to to something. Issay’s stomach did a flip of nerves, and the hairs stood on end on his arms and neck.</p><p>    Sakurai flipped the cap open on a bottle of lubricant. “Strawberry flavored. It reminded me of that bath stuff you had that time.” He was savoring the ripple of anxiety he was stirring up in Issay, and continued to smile… or more like, leer. He took the other hand out from behind his back and wiggled his fingers.</p><p>    Issay’s eyes turned to saucers. “Where the hell did you get that??”</p><p>    His hand was covered in a soft silicone glove, covered in long pointy spikes that rather looked like nails. The tips of each of the fingers were open, allowing for direct touch, but the palm and fingers themselves were spiked. It looked like it could hurt, but he knew that it was made of silicone, so it couldn’t. It was purely for texture.</p><p>    Sakurai squirted a generous dose of the water based lubricant onto the glove and spread it around on the surface. “I did a little shop exploring after I left the party this evening,” he said. “I wanted to be prepared for you tonight. Did you think I’d let you get off easy after that?” he laughed and tossed the lube bottle onto the bed next to them. It rolled, trying to tuck itself into the compressed divot where Issay’s hip met the mattress.</p><p>    Issay watched with a nervous thrill in his chest. His friend- no, his lover- held the gloved hand aloft, away as a taunt, and to keep the lubricant from tracking off, and bent over Issay’s cock, licking the tip of the head with a flicker of his tongue, then tracing it around the rim of the crown. His left hand slipped up to his testicles, and massaged them, rolling them in his palm. He closed in and Issay gasped as he took the entire length of him into his mouth, the tip brushing into the back of his throat. Raising up from the base, he rubbed the flat of his tongue over the head, then sank back down, taking him deeply. Issay groaned, then realized that he was being too loud, and bit his lips shut, struggling with the urge to thrust into his mouth.</p><p>He's good at this. Exceptional, Issay thought. Too good, for someone that didn’t want to swallow. He was just about to warn him to be careful when Sakurai eased off, releasing him. He gave him a minute to cool off and toyed the tip of his tongue over his cock once again. Sitting up, he checked the lubricant on the gloved hand, rubbing it to work it around a bit. The intimidating spikes seethed and undulated like watching an anemone in a tide pool.</p><p>    Sakurai opened the gloved hand flat, and brushed the tips of the spikes down the underside of Issay’s cock, then back up again, and rolled his hand over the head. The squishy spiked texture closed over him then as Sakurai took hold of the shaft and stroked. “Oh my god.” Issay gasped. He couldn’t resist thrusting into Sakurai’s hand, and he surprised him by bending down and tonguing the head again, letting Issay’s thrust push it into his mouth. His hand held the shaft though, keeping control of their play.</p><p>    Issay’s breath was heavy, panting. The spiked nubs on his hand, covered in the thick strawberry lubricant were almost too much stimulation to bear. Fingers from every direction pressing into him, slipping, crawling, bending, stroking. He clenched his teeth, his breath hissing out in ragged bursts. He was getting close again. Sakurai rubbed his lips over the lube slicked tip of Issay’s cock, and gently nipped on the rim with tiny slow nips, then sucked on the entire head. His tongue rolled over it in circles, then played with the tiny opening. Issay moaned, digging his fingers into the bed sheets. He was trembling, fighting as hard as he could to not lose control and thrust to his climax. Sakurai stopped and pulled back from him to force him to come down from the precipice.</p><p>    He wasn’t sure if he could take much more of this. Perspiration streamed down his body, and Sakurai slid his left hand up through it, over his torso, to his chest. He shifted and got up, moving to the head of the bed on Issay’s right, and settled up against his body, lifting and going beneath Issay’s arm to get closer. His tongue found Issay’s right nipple, running circles around it and flicking, nipping the tiny point at the center just as his hand closed around his cock again and resumed stroking. Firm, solid strokes, and he sucked hard on Issay’s nipple, causing him to cry out and arch. His head rolled to the side, baring his neck, and Sakurai took full advantage, shifting to lick the salty sweat from his Adam’s apple, then sink his teeth into the side of his neck.</p><p>    The moment Sakurai’s teeth closed over his neck, sending sharp pleasure-pain shooting through to Issay’s hand and chest, he came. His hips thrust and bucked, and he growled through his clenched teeth. His orgasm spattered over his stomach and dripped over Sakurai’s glove covered knuckles. “Careful! Oh… so sensitive right now. Can’t handle anything.” He panted, exhausted. Sakurai released his cock from his grip, then sat up, turning towards him. He locked eyes with Issay, and lifted the gloved hand, rubbing his index finger’s knuckle on his lower lip, then sucked his lip clean. Issay was mesmerized by the action. Sakurai then opened his hand, and swirled the lubricant and cum over Issay’s belly, before taking the glove off with a snap.</p><p>    “Shower time. Shall we?” he said and smacked Issay on the leg with the soggy glove as he stood.</p><p> </p><p>_____________________________________</p><p> </p><p>Sakurai wasn’t even sure why they bothered with showering anymore, when more often than not, they found themselves back in bed again the moment they dried. Showering was foreplay to them. Not that he had any complaints. The sluice of water over his skin was always a pleasure for him. They’d started this tryst in water, in the pouring rain in the outdoor bath at the onsen. In retrospect, he was the one that had started it all.</p><p>    Or had he? Issay had been rather receptive when approached, and he had suggested heading to an onsen in the first place. Sakurai thought about it, but it bugged him to do so, like he was trying to pin it all on Issay. But still… that trip was the final nudge that broke the dam keeping it at bay.</p><p>    And here they were, showering, and at it again. He’d taken the sprayer from the hotel’s wall mounting and was spraying the remains of the lubricant and their play, passing his hand over the flesh of Issay’s torso, swishing him clean in sweeping movements, and Issay was responding to him like they’d not fucked in days. The lube became slippery, rehydrating at first before it dissolved and rinsed down the drain, and Issay arched back, pressing himself into Sakurai’s touch.</p><p>    Issay backed up to the tile wall, resting his shoulders on it as Sakurai rinsed him, his ribcage thrust forward and ass against the wall. The tile was cold, unwarmed from the water. Sakurai savored his response, growing more and more aroused as he watched. He kissed Issay, soft, light caresses that stoked the flame once again. He almost forgot the sprayer in his hand and caught it slipping before it hit the floor. Sakurai hung it up, back into its holder where it could continue to keep them warm. Fortunate to be in a hotel, on that account, he thought. Never ending hot water.</p><p>    After fumbling it back onto its hook, he returned his attentions to Issay. Issay was against the wall tile still, with an unguarded radiance of desire that made him glow. Sakurai moaned and stepped forward, and tugged Issay by a hand around his lower back, pressing him up against his own body. The sensation of Issay’s lean hips pressed against his own had him grinding into him, with his cock responding, growing longer, more full.</p><p>    Sakurai had always had a strong sex drive, had a spark of desire humming in the background, waiting to be fanned. His career encouraged it, emphasized it. It was like fuel. The irony was, the more torrid his career, his reputation became, the less he could safely experience it in his private life. This, with Issay, changed all that. A safe port in the storm.</p><p>    Issay slipped his hand behind Sakurai’s neck, and the other against his chest as they kissed, their tongues dancing light and sensual flickers against each other. Sakurai sucked on his upper lip, tugging it, suckling it in a way that had Issay erect in a matter of seconds. He rubbed his cock into Sakurai’s belly with a hand behind his ass. Sakurai was rigid too, his cock twitching as its tumescence filled and expanded.</p><p>    His hand flailed at the wall, searching for soap, shampoo, anything. The blade of his hand crashed into the soap dish, smacking the knuckle of his little finger. That would leave a bruise. He didn’t care though. He snatched the small bar of soap off of its resting place, and tried to lather it into thick suds between his palms while not breaking contact with the plunging, torrid kisses they were sharing. The soap slipped and fell, bouncing off of his foot and sliding across the tile, out of reach. Fuck it. He side stepped a little, taking Issay with him, then broke off their kiss. Issay was out of breath, his expression pure and carnal. Sakurai knew that he himself must have been a sight- he felt the tingle in his lips, his cheeks, face flushed with desire, eyes hooded and a spasm of want making his features tremble; the need to bare his teeth in ferocious lust causing his nose to wrinkle and twitch. He had to fuck. They had to fuck. The desire, the need made him feel like he would jump out of his skin, lost to the moment.</p><p>    Sakurai slathered the soap over Issay’s genitals, his thighs, then his own. His need had taken over, and he was a flailing wreck. Breathe! Just breathe… relax… back… relax… breathe; slowing down, grounding was not optional. He was so close to coming it wasn’t funny. Breathe… breathe… there. He raked his fingers through the rich bubbles that shaped peaks and curls within the thick dark hair on Issay’s groin, curling ringlets of it over his fingertips. His knuckles brushed over the base of his cock, then he swept his fingers beneath it, stroking the underside of his shaft.</p><p>    Issay thrust, rubbing against those fingers, and Sakurai closed his hand around him, allowing him to set the pace. Small, simple kisses pressed their lips together, then parted. Issay took Sakurai’s shaft into his own hand, and pushed his leg between his lover’s, so each aligned to the other’s leg. He ground his cock against Sakurai’s hip, releasing his shaft from his hold and passing his arms around him, pulling his hips closer against himself. Sakurai slipped his own hands to Issay’s ass, and they pressed together in a dense, creamy lather of soap, riding each other’s thigh.</p><p>    The shower ran and the bathroom’s mirror steamed over, dripping the condensate and becoming clear and reflective once again in thin, warped lines; the air thick. Their pleasure was building and the humidity felt like another lover, a tangible force caressing them. The scent of Issay’s perspiration reached him, the heavy, hormonal scent of a man aroused in the heat of their shower. Not a trace of deodorant remained to conceal his natural scent. Sakurai released their kiss, and bent to nuzzle his nose at Issay’s armpit. Issay raised the arm over his head, his fingertips just against the wall above him.</p><p>    He brushed the tip of his nose into the curls, then rolled his lips in over his teeth, clamping the hair between them and tugged. Issay shivered, gasping. The sensation was so different, but arousing all the same. Sakurai tugged again, then released the soft, fluffy hair from between his lips, and nuzzled it, inhaling the scent of his lover. A flash of lust wracked through Sakurai at the pheromonal scent. If the desire to rut had a specific fragrance, this was it. It was pure desire, a gigantic glaring sign that screamed how much Issay was aroused, how much he wanted to fuck him. Sakurai willed himself to be gentle, to not bite. It had brought him into the realm of raw animal instinct. He ran his tongue along the front edge of the hair, accidentally tickling Issay and making him gasp a laugh and quiver, his nerves drawn taut. Sakurai stroked his cheekbone against the hollow and closed his eyes.</p><p>_________________</p><p> </p><p>    Issay gave him a nudge to get his attention, and had him switch places, with Sakurai’s back against the tile. Their legs interlocked still, unwilling to end the contact between their cocks and the flesh of each other’s thighs, hips. Issay twined his fingers into Sakurai’s, palm against palm, and raised his arms over their heads. He unlaced his fingers, pressing the backs of Sakurai’s to the tile, indicating that he keep them there, and retrieved the soap.</p><p>    When he returned, he took down the water sprayer, and soaked Sakurai’s underarms, lathering the bar to remove the last vestiges of his deodorant; the antiperspirant and fragrance he knew was bitter to taste… and he knew exactly what Sakurai craved. It was a shame that some of his scent would be lost to the soap. He could pick up on what his lover had been grooving on… a clean, musky, heady testosterone scent that just screamed “I WANT TO FUCK!” somehow, to the nose. And oh god, he did want to fuck… Issay could feel it radiating from every pore.</p><p>    He rinsed off the soap, and with it, the soap they’d covered in for some time now- best not to burn the skin from it, they were going to be playing for a while. The thought brought a sensual, hedonistic smile to Issay’s lips, and Sakurai’s breath at the sight heaved, aroused, breathless.</p><p>    He’d always wondered- there was something about Sakurai on stage that announced his desires through every movement once he got his groove on. And what he’d seen… he’d known that Sakurai had an armpit fetish. It was obvious and blatant. The sprayer rinsed away the last bit of the soapy residue, and he hung it back on the hook. Sakurai remained still, or as still as he could at the level of arousal he was at, with his arms pinned over his head, palms forward. His hips rocked against the tile, his cock high and erect; the hair damp and matted from the shower, covered in droplets that shone in the light like dew. He panted then clenched his teeth, the breath hissing through them.</p><p>    Issay stepped close to him, keeping the barest of distances separating them, and stared into his eyes. Sakurai vibrated with tension, his eyes narrowing and teary. Desire made the jet black pupils and dark irises grow and overtake everything with blackness. His nostrils flared.</p><p>    Issay lifted his hand and brushed his fingers over the hair of one of Sakurai’s underarms. It sprang back as his touch passed by, then fluffing his fingers upward again over the tangled mass. His nipples tightened into sharp peaks from the delicate touch. Issay squeezed one between his lips, continuing to stroke his underarm. A gasp escaped Sakurai, and his knees bent, giving way beneath him. Issay released his nipple, pushed him firm against the shower wall with his hips, grabbing his wrists with one hand and slapping his hands against the tile, with his other hand planted onto the wall at their side. It was enough to shake him out of collapsing; dominant, but not rough. Pinned into place.</p><p>_________________</p><p> </p><p>    Sakurai moaned in pleasure. He loved power exchange when it was done well… there’s a difference between aggression and a good, solid dominant taking charge, and it was a pleasure he didn’t get to experience often. Issay nosed the hair at the other armpit. Sakurai could smell the beginnings of his own natural scent breaking through the sterility of his scrubbed skin, and could smell the chemistry, so different from Issay’s, but sexual none the less. It was something he never talked about… his sweat as he left the stage at venues after rigorous performances. He could tell by his own scent how the performance had been. When he was in the zone, his scent was… his own scent was a turn on. Like a recursive loop, the scent of his own arousal would arouse him further.</p><p>    The tip of Issay’s tongue lapped at the sensitive hollow just below where the hair began, then around behind the thatch, towards his shoulder. He rubbed the side of his face against the hair and kissed the center of it. He began to float, drift into subspace, as he gave control over to Issay. Issay released his hands and turned off the shower. “Let’s get you back into the bedroom where it’s safer. The place you’re at right now, it’s not wise to be on this wet tile.”<br/>  Issay dried him off with one of the big bath towels, wrapped him in a yukata, and helped him walk out to the bedroom. Sakurai thought they were headed to the bed, but he led him to a chair instead. It was tall backed, but had no arms to it. He sat him down, then took his wrists and crossed them, putting them behind his neck. The yukata sash was bound around his wrists, then through the side slats that ran up the chair back, and into a bow for quick release. It was open in the front without the tie, and Issay slipped it further open to expose him, naked beneath it.</p><p>    Issay pushed Sakurai’s knees apart and rested one of his own on the chair between his legs, supporting part of his weight on that knee. He ran his fingertips along the side of Sakurai’s neck in little looping caresses down to his collar bone, and he dropped his jaw against his shoulder, his eyelashes brushing against his own bicep as he presented his neck to the touch. Issay’s explorations swept down, along the modest muscle of his chest to his underarm. He pet the hair there, light passes with his knuckles, then ran his thumb along the length of the patch, from top to bottom, down the center of it. Sakurai shivered, drifting.</p><p>    Leaning down over him from his position above, Issay brought his parted lips closer and closer to Sakurai’s, and stopped when he almost made contact. Sakurai fidgeted in the chair, his feet flexing and twisting as he waited for the kiss that never came. Issay just stared into his eyes at close range, tempting, teasing. Another stroke of the thumb to his underarm had him shivering like a tight cord, ready to snap. Issay swooped to replace his thumb with his tongue, and drew it flat, broad, along the same path his thumb had been following in Sakurai’s under arm. Sakurai’s feet worked frantically, his toes crushed in and twisting. A shaking gasp punctuated the spasms that wracked his torso, and he swooned.</p><p>    Issay shifted his attentions to the other arm pit, licking at it in little kitten like strokes with the tip of his tongue, first along the area of the crease in the center, then nuzzled the hair with his nose. Sakurai trembled and tried to put his arms down, but they were tied and bound to the chair. Stuck that way, exposed to Issay’s whim. His head lolled in resignation, giving himself over to the sensations he didn’t want to fight anyway. His cock was painfully hard, standing at attention and wet with pre-cum as he sat in the chair in the yukata, open and in full sight.</p><p>    Knowing the internal struggle Sakurai faced when his passions were at the surface and on display, Issay pushed him further. He backed off, standing from his semi-kneeling position on the chair, and crossed his arms, observing him. The state of dissolution he was in was grotesque and beautiful. Tears formed on the rims of his eyes as he felt the weight of Issay’s probing gaze. Issay watched as his cock twitched, much to his humiliation. He whimpered as the first droplet fell. Issay reached out a single finger, and caught the fluid that had dripped from his cock onto the side of his fingertip, and lifted his finger up, allowing a thread of it to stretch from his finger. It stretched for quite a distance, then snapped.</p><p>    “Oh, you are turned on, aren’t you?” he taunted. Sakurai’s flush deepened across his nose and cheeks, and he gasped. Issay stroked the dampened fingertip under his cock as if he were petting under the chin of a kitten. The light touch was unsatisfying, and his hips surged, thrusting his cock up as its head swelled and took on a purplish tint. He looked like the slightest thing could launch him.</p><p>    Issay stood up, towering over Sakurai. “Quite lovely.” His eyes burned like white hot steel. “Is all this for me?” His gaze searched Sakurai’s face and looked down at his cock. So hard, the head had become rounded and shiny, the opening key hole shaped now from the erection and was flowing it’s clear fluid in a dripping thread down to his thigh.</p><p>    “I said: Is all this for me? Are you about to blow your load because I’ve turned you on? Because I get you going? Is that it?” He lifted Sakurai’s chin, forcing him to make eye contact. Sakurai was beet red, and the tears in his eyes were threatening to overflow to his cheeks. He let out a quivering gasp. He ran his thumb over his lower lip, and Sakurai's eyelids fluttered at the caress. The tears he’d been fighting so hard to keep in check fell, and he was afraid to look at him again. Issay watched the battle he waged against himself and his own needs for a minute, then licked the tears off of Sakurai’s cheek. He whimpered.</p><p>    Issay dropped his hand, and stepped back, walking away. He waited silently until Sakurai got up the nerve to look to see where he’d gone. He was leaning against the table against the wall, and his arms were folded across his chest. His yukata was crossed and tied, making Sakurai’s exposure all the more humiliating. “You haven’t answered me.”</p><p>    Sakurai went ashen. To his horror, his cock gave a hard twitch, announcing how much it was turning him on. His mouth opened and worked silently, trying to find his voice and failing. A croaking gasp was all he managed. Issay stood from his perch and strode back over to him. He locked eyes with him, and  swirled his fingers over the over swollen head of Sakurai’s cock, causing him to cry out. He was so aroused, it was almost too much to be touched. “Well?” He fondled Sakurai’s balls, playing with the tight, leathery texture of the skin. His hips trembled, resisting the need to thrust. Issay knew that in this state, as soon as he gave in to the urge to thrust, he wouldn’t be able to stop, and could send himself over with next to no physical contact at all. He had to be careful. He pushed again. “So? Is this…” he trailed his fingers up the underside of his shaft, “is this because I turn you on? You want to fuck me?”</p><p>    Something clicked in Sakurai. He started to beg. “YES! You turn me on! I need… I need… please, I need to fuck… please…” he became incoherent, stammering. “I… please! Take me. I… I need to fuck you so much…” His eyes squeezed shut, his breath coming out in bursts through his nose. Issay leaned forward, kissing him. Sakurai opened his eyes, and they filled with tears as he lunged his tongue into Issay’s mouth. His kiss was on the edge of sanity; frenzied, needful. Issay groaned into his mouth, swept up into his desire.</p><p>    He forced himself to pull away, and knelt at Sakurai’s feet, between his legs at the chair. He tugged open the front of his yukata, exposing his own erection to view, and wrapped his left hand around it as he took Sakurai’s in his right. Sakurai panted and watched as Issay stroked them both in an identical rhythm, one in each hand. He thrust and grated a shrieking cry out. His climax broke open only a few strokes in, in a powerful release. His body trembled and shook, the shoulder of his yukata absorbing a spreading stain of cum from the initial burst.</p><p>    Issay wasn’t as close to the edge, but Sakurai’s orgasm intensified his need. He was stroking faster when Sakurai found his voice. “Cum on me. I want you to cum on me!” Issay’s mind burned white, and he got up from the floor as fast as he could and stood, pushed to the point of no return from the request. Sakurai’s arms were still tied at the wrist behind his neck, leaving him prone. Issay swept the yukata aside, not stopping his stroking for a second. Sakurai groaned, watching him masturbate. It was too much for Issay, and he came on his chest and stomach. Sakurai dropped his head back, arching his chest into the warm rain of ejaculate, and bit back a scream.</p><p>    Almost unable to stand, Issay stumbled behind the chair, releasing Sakurai’s bonds. He was glad he’d tied it in a bow, because under the strain that his struggles put on it, it would have been impossible to untie if it had been knotted. Sakurai’s shoulders had seized from being in the same awkward position for so long, and he was stiff and creaky as he lowered his arms. “Ow ow ow ow ow ow! Oohf…” he rolled his shoulders and neck. Issay sat on his heels on the floor, still regaining his breath.</p><p>    “God. We need another shower after that.” He said with a laugh. Sakurai leaned down and kissed him. “Hm. Another shower? Might be wiser to just sponge off and put on some deodorant, or we’re most likely going to end up trying to go for it again.”</p><p>    “Mnh. Good point.” Issay joked back. He looked at the clock. “Shit. It’s already 5:00AM. I gotta move it, or…” They both knew it. It was a bad idea to be seen. Issay pulled on his pants and socks after a quick tidy up and went to the door to put on his shoes. Sakurai followed him to lock the door behind him, and before he left, Issay kissed him.</p><p>  “Amazing night.”</p><p>  Sakurai smiled and opened the door. “Yeah. Careful out there…”</p><p>    The door closed with a click. Alone at last, Sakurai closed his eyes and breathed in a deep breath. His mouth spoke the words he could never say to him, in an inaudible whisper to the empty room:</p><p>    “I love you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Imai tied his sneakers and headed out into the hall. It was early still, a time where he was safe to go out to jog. He liked keeping active. It helped him to keep in shape so he could be energetic on stage. Sometimes he used a treadmill, if schedule or location, weather were a problem, but he loved the freedom of hitting the pavement when he had the opportunity.</p><p>    A door down the hallway opened, and Issay stepped out and made a beeline to the elevator. Imai stopped for a second, trying to recall- wasn’t he on the floor above him? Then he remembered: Oh, yeah, that’s Sakurai’s room. Issay punched the button and entered, staring at his feet as the doors closed, not noticing Imai at all.</p><p>    The elevator took a while to reach this floor again, but finally opened and Imai boarded it, going to the entrance level and outside into the early morning light. The sun hadn’t risen above the horizon yet, but would be soon. He took off on the route he’d mapped out before their arrival on the train into town. Rubberized footfalls tapped on the sidewalk, settling into a rhythmic gait uphill.</p><p>The city was waking up and beginning its daily routine. Coffee shops, men in suits with newspapers, trucks bearing logos of fish wholesalers- the activities of the denizens of early morning, familiar in any city, came into and went from view. In his own neighborhood he was known for running, and would chat with the shop keepers. This however, was just another nameless stop on their tour. They blurred as time passed.</p><p>    A vegetable seller swept the sidewalk ahead with a broom, and he greeted him with a quick good morning and kept out of the way. He thought about Issay in the hall and almost tripped as it dawned on him: his hair was wet. Why the hell was his hair wet and combed back? Did he fucking take a shower at Sakurai’s room, or what? That’s just strange. No. Maybe he had drunk himself sick and splashed himself off with water. Had to be it. Imai, you’re making up shit again, he chided himself. Run. He looked at his wrist watch. Breakfast in a little over 45 minutes. Time to get moving, or he’d be late.</p><p> </p><p>___________________</p><p> </p><p>    Imai entered the private breakfast room an hour later, showered and changed from his running clothes. The buffet was traditional fare this time, and he piled a salad and pan sauteed fish onto his plate, and a mug of coffee. Issay walked in just as he was serving himself fish and stood next to him with his own plate. “Good morning,” he greeted him and returned the serving utensils to the chaffing dish. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t quite peg what it was. Issay reached over and picked up the utensils to serve himself some of the fish, and Imai looked over his shoulder at him and sniffed. What? That doesn’t make any sense. He smells like he hasn’t had a drink all night. That can’t be right.</p><p>    He sat at their table, and talk centered on the tour. One more town to go, and then the tour final. They were leaving this morning, done with this town. Issay yawned and tried to hide it. “Hangover?” Imai asked. “Gotta be careful with that on traveling days.”</p><p>Issay looked up from his coffee. “Mnh? Oh, no. Just tired. Had trouble sleeping last night.” He sipped his coffee and ate a clump of rice. “Think I’m going to need a refill," holding up his mug, joking to break the tension. He got up and went back to the coffee service table and pumped out another cup.</p><p>He lied. Imai felt his radar go off- Issay lied about what he was doing last night. “Good morning! Good morning!” Yuta came in, and trailing behind him, Sakurai. “’Morning.” He looked exhausted. He reached to take a plate off of the stack on the buffet and winced as if his arm hurt. Food on his plate, he walked rather stiffly over and sat at the table with the others, and took a bite of salad. “You look like shit. No sleep last night?” Toll asked him. “Ah. I got sucked into the book I was reading and lost track of the time. Didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”</p><p>    Imai listened to them talk and finished eating his breakfast. When he was done, he stood up and excused himself to get packed. He stepped into his room, kicking off his sneakers and started to pack his toiletries. Something was definitely happening. Sure, Sakurai often would get his nose stuck into a book and forget the time, they all did… but he’d seen Issay come out of his room. They'd been up all night talking. But why keep it a secret? A pang of guilt struck Imai. They must have been talking about how he’d been cutting into the schedule and changing things.</p><p>    He sighed. Yeah, he’d been an ass. He’d kept on shooting Sakurai down, wanting to cultivate their image as a serious band, and it backfired on him. Sakurai had found someone else to fan service with in his place. A strange feeling crept in on him. He sat and latched his bag shut and gave it a shove towards the door. There. All set. Ready to roll. He hated to admit it, but he missed how it had been in the early days. He just wanted to be more like rockers from the UK. They weren’t as young as they were anymore, and there are just some things that don’t work when you’re older. Time to shift gears from the Visual Kei fanservice, but Sakurai didn’t agree. He felt it was forgetting their identity, who they were. Imai saw his point… but he’d dug in his heels because he wanted to maintain control. He had to be in charge at all times. His downfall- he was a control freak. He knew it.</p><p>    There were two more shows left for the tour, and then it was over, complete. He sighed. All right. I’ll let Issay have three songs at the next one, and he can stay the full encore on the tour final show. Issay had been dragged into the middle of their disagreement and had been paying for it. It wasn’t fair to him. That odd feeling became more acute. He got up, and picked up his bag to head out to the lobby, pissed with himself.</p><p>    He just didn’t like seeing them having the fun he and Sakurai used to have together.</p><p> </p><p>___________________</p><p> </p><p>    Imai called an informal meeting on the train. Hidehiko sat across the isle, listening to the schedule recap and putting in his say for the set list vote. Toll had chosen the list for the next show, and with a little shuffling of order, they agreed.</p><p>    “Now that we’re at the end of the tour, Issay can have more stage time again.” Imai announced in a casual tone, acting as if he had never given a crap. Yeah, right. Hidehiko thought. He knew him too well. Whenever Imai acted offhand as if something was unimportant, it was. Things were afoot. Hidehiko’s brows knit together for a brief flash, then he masked his interest and lounged back on the arm of his seat. The discussion continued, outlining which songs he would be out on stage. Kindly, he was given the full encore set on the final, like he was supposed to be doing in the first place. He’d get his press coverage time. That was good. But Hidehiko still didn’t trust him. He didn’t change modes overnight like this without something pushing him to do so.</p><p>    The meeting ended, and everyone went back to their seats to relax. Yuta took out a portable CD player and earphones, and Toll went back to his drum magazine. Hidehiko stayed in the seat he’d taken for the meeting- it had a good vantage point of the cabin. He sat back and waited, watched. Sakurai stared out the window. Issay read a paper for a while, but kept on sneaking glances at Sakurai. Knowing what he knew was going on between them, he could see that he had it bad. He gave a quiet laugh in amusement. They were doing an OK job of hiding their liaisons, but it was still there if you knew them.</p><p>    His eyes flickered over to movement a few rows down on the other side. Imai was facing them, seated towards the other end of the car. He had out his organizer and was leafing through it, pretending to be reading something absorbing within its pages. But there! There it was again! He stared at Issay as if his eyes would bore a hole through his head. And Issay was oblivious. He was gazing at Sakurai.</p><p>  Shit. I knew it. Hidehiko clenched his teeth in alarm. How much did he know? Hidehiko stood up and walked down the isle. Imai averted his eyes back to his planner and looked up when he arrived as if he hadn’t seen him stand. “May I?” he gestured to the seat across from Imai. Time for some countermeasures to distract him and keep the peace until the tour was over and they were back home.</p><p> </p><p>____________________________________</p><p> </p><p>They left the stage to much cheering and applause, leaving only the tour final on the itinerary. Sakurai went back to the dressing room without stopping to talk to anyone and tossed his towel down on one of tables. He swigged from his bottle of spring water and sighed. A bland show this evening. Hidehiko had come to him in his hotel room just after he had arrived, himself...</p><p>________________</p><p>    A knock sounded at the door. Sakurai looked out the peephole and let Hidehiko into the room. The door closed stiffly, needing to be oiled. It was an older hotel. Hidehiko sat on the sofa, resting his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped. A ripple of concern went through him. The look on Hidehiko’s face was a gigantic warning flag.</p><p>    “What’s up?” He sat on the end of the bed and tucked his feet up into agura position. Hidehiko sighed and fidgeted his thumbs, steepling them. “Imai. Watch your ass, both of you tomorrow. You and Issay. Keep away from each other. No fan service. OK? Imai has been watching the both of you like a hawk all day.” He pressed his lips together, rolling them in and let out a gusty breath through his nose. “We’re almost at tour end. Once it’s over you’ll have some space, but with the press… we need to keep this from blowing up in our faces. So lie low.”</p><p> </p><p>________________</p><p>    Sakurai scowled. “Shit. God, I hate this shit.” He interlaced his fingers and rubbed his indexes down his nose, tucking his thumbs under his chin. He turned his head, dropping his hands and sighed over his shoulder in frustration, then rubbed his nose again with his left hand. “We wouldn’t even be in this situation if he hadn’t…” He sighed again.</p><p>    Hidehiko sympathized with what he was going through, but he didn’t think Sakurai was being completely honest with himself. He’d stuck his neck out, offering the backup vocals on his own composition when Imai was reluctant to include Issay in the album, and he did it because there was something urgent feeling about it. It was important to Sakurai, and what the heck. He’d given his own time into Issay’s shit. So he went to bat for him. In retrospect, he should have seen this coming. All of it. It’s just… well, you don’t usually expect your hetero coworkers you’ve known for years- friends since high school- to all of a sudden head off into bisexual land in their private time with a peer, fan service or not.</p><p>    No matter. It was going down now, so they had to deal with it. He looked over at Sakurai, who’d gotten up and was poking around with his luggage again. There was an air of something different about him now, a sense of peace that he’d not seen him have before... whatever they shared, it appeared to be good for him. He’d watched his band mate go through so much. Family problems, problems with the law when they first met; he’d almost given up and become a lout, jumping from job to job in the town they’d grown up in, left behind in the dust. Leaching women, bullshit from labels and management, gossip tabloids and tell-alls, he’d had his share. This was the first time he looked truly comfortable. No, not like he was on stage, raring to go and enjoying the high of the attention- that was fleeting and temporary. No, this was comfort. He’d faced his demons… or at least, some of them.</p><p>    He stood. “I’m going to go get myself unpacked. See you later. Be careful, man.” He walked to the door and turned. “Oh! I almost forgot. The guys wanted to have pizza and beer night after the show since the tour final will be insane. Figured it would be a nice break.”</p><p> </p><p>________________</p><p>    The pizza arrived in the green room of the stadium half an hour after the show ended, so they’d have time to tidy up and get out of their stage costuming. Sakurai was tossed a can of Sapporo when he walked in that spilled foam on the floor when he popped the top open. It was just them tonight; the crew were going to have their own get together at a local Korean restaurant. Pizza boxes were open on a table- corn and potato with a lattice work of mayonnaise on top, meat, and mixed seafood with bits of mochi. He tossed a slice of corn and potato on a paper plate and flopped into an overstuffed chair.</p><p>    Toll was chowing down on the seafood mochi pizza with his brother, and Hidehiko was talking with Imai, an empty plate on his lap. After finding himself a couple of slices of pizza, Issay perched on the arm of Sakurai's heavy chair. They’d not been near each other all night at Hidehiko’s warning, and Sakurai was moody. The show sucked tonight because he had to tiptoe around Imai again. It was cold and sterile. He was tired of it. He finished off his can of beer, then got up and took a couple more slices of pizza and another can of beer and returned to his seat, lounging in it sideways with his shoulders against Issay, his feet on the cushion, knees up and his paper plate on his stomach. They ate in companionable silence. Issay was used to Sakurai’s moods and knew that he’d meet him on the other side of his funk when he was ready.</p><p>    They’d polished off most of the pizza when the shochu came out. “Come on- PinPonPan time!” Yuta yelled and was greeted with moans. “Over here.” He set down a couple of bottles of shochu and glasses. The humor of a band playing a rhythmic coordination drinking game amused him to no end, so they’d often gotten stuck playing it. Sakurai was still in a foul mood from earlier, but the edge of it was mellowed from the beer. He hoisted himself up out of his comfy nest and sat at the table with the others.</p><p>    Around and around the game ricocheted. Issay lost and had to drink to razzing cheers. “Pin!” “Pon!” “Pan!” the game spun for a while, each of them too good at keeping time together. They sped up to increase the challenge. Imai looses. Hoots and jeers ring out as he downs a glass. The game continued at a crazy pace, and it soon became obvious that the handicap of having lost early on increased their odds of not keeping the time. Imai lost again and again, and Issay kept up the slack, coming in second worst with his losses.</p><p> </p><p>    “Sorry guys, I’m going to call it a night before I end up completely hung over tomorrow.” Issay stood up begging off, feeling the impact of the shots he’d already had to drink. “Good night, everyone.” The less drunk of them stood and shook hands and clapped him on the shoulder to see him off, and in a clatter of chairs sliding back, play resumed. Sakurai screwed up, and had a shot. Toll drummed on the table with his hands as he knocked it back, and they cheered. Faster and faster the game calls flew ‘round, and there was a definite buzz going from the liquor.</p><p>    Imai was trashed and looking like he would pass out in the next shot or two, but Sakurai’s mood was not improving. If anything, he felt more miserable. It sucked. He got up, announcing that he was out. “I think I’m just going to go to bed. I’m wiped out,” picking up his bag and jacket he’d left next to the door on the floor. He was half way down the hall when the door to the green room thudded with a rough handled thunk. He didn’t turn around to look behind him, and Imai called out.</p><p>    “Hey! Wait up. Just a minute, there.” He came to a stop, gritting his teeth. He didn’t want to deal with Imai in this condition, either of them. Imai was sloshed, and he himself was part way there, and pissed. His left hand crushed into a fist, and he turned to face him. Imai lurched and stumbled down the hall towards him and stopped in a confrontational tough guy pose.</p><p>    “Not the fuck now, Imai. I don’t want to talk. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sakurai turned to continue down the hall towards the exit, but Imai grabbed his arm and yanked him back. “Not so fast,” he slurred. “I do.” Sakurai looked down at Imai’s hand clenching his upper arm and gritted his teeth. He tried to yank away, but Imai held firm. “What the hell is going on? You going to go see Issay again? Do some more ‘late night reading’?” He tilted his head aggressively and sneered.</p><p>    Sakurai yanked harder and extricated himself from Imai’s grip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He charged down the hall, and Imai caught up to him like a dog at his heels, barking. “I saw him leaving your room. Working on your choreography perhaps?”</p><p>    Sakurai slowed down, shooting a glance at Imai. His eyes went wide with shock and disgust. “What the fuck is this, Imai? You sound like a jealous shrew! You’re drunk, man. Go sleep it off.” He turned and stormed to the exit door at the end of the hall and slammed it open.</p><p>    Imai stood where he’d been and yelled. “I don’t want you to do that shit with him! Jealous? I’m just protecting the band’s interests!”</p><p>    Hidehiko came down the hall at a trot, horrified at the brawl that was about to break out between the band leader and their vocalist a few days before their big tour final concert. He could just see it now- all the press there, and there’s Imai missing a tooth again, and Sakurai with a black eye covered under makeup. He ran up behind him and grabbed him by his upper arms, holding him back from lunging. “Come on Imai, you’ve had too much to drink. Let’s go get you some water and something to eat or you’re going to be dying tomorrow.”</p><p>    “I don’t give a fuck about that!” Imai struggled to get free of Hidehiko’s hold, but Hidehiko was much more sober and bigger. “You’re fucking him, aren’t you?! Hey! I’m talking to you!” Sakurai’s eyes narrowed into a deep scowl. Imai jerked his shoulders against the restraining grip of Hidehiko’s hands, his feet positioned like a boxer’s feet, bouncing and ready to strike. “I’m not jealous, asshole! I’m a man! What the fuck?! You really are fucking him, aren’t you?!”</p><p>    Sakurai spat out just before he went out through the door into the parking lot, “Yeah, right Imai. I can see you’re not jealous. Drunk-assed bastard.”</p><p>He was so upset he felt nauseous as he hit the side entrance lot. The cool night air helped, but he kept on charging, needing to get away from the bullshit that had gone down in the hallway at the arena. Imai could be a nasty drunk at times, but Hidehiko had been right. Imai had been brewing shit and had been waiting to go off on him. He just hadn’t thought that he was… jealous… of Issay? That’s what it had been all along, why he'd been acting that way? Jealousy?</p><p>    Sakurai hailed a cab, unable to navigate in the unfamiliar surroundings after dark and a few drinks under his belt. He was only a few blocks away from his hotel, but best not to risk it so soon after a show. The fans would expect them to be long gone, but there might be some at the local bars or clubs for drinks, and he had to avoid being seen, or he'd be mobbed.</p><p>    After looping around for the one-way streets, the taxi pulled up to the hotel facade, and he paid the driver. Fuck this shit. He was pissed. He took a few breaths to get his emotions under check and went inside to the elevator. The doors whooshed shut, and he punched Issay’s floor. He didn’t want to be alone in this mood. The elevator took him up to the 5th floor and opened. He rubbed his eyes and walked down the hall to his door. Issay must have been expecting him- he opened the door almost at the first knock.</p><p>    “Fucking just had a fight with Imai at the arena... he was drunker than hell, and Hidehiko had to intervene. He’d been right.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “You got any water?” Issay went to the mini fridge and took out one of the bottles of water from its door, handing it to Sakurai. “Thanks,” he cracked the seal and drank half of the bottle, then dropped into the sofa, sighing. “The thing that gets me though, is the shit coming out of his mouth. I hadn’t expected that. He…” he raked his hand through his hair again, agitated. “He… sounded like he was jealous. Freaked the crap out of me.”</p><p>    Issay sat down on the far arm of the sofa and put his feet up on the cushion, leaning onto his knees with his elbows. “I thought he might be.” He replied in a low tone.</p><p>    Sakurai looked up at him, stunned. “What?? What do you mean?”</p><p>    Issay rubbed his forehead and temples, then gathered his bangs into his hand and tugged. His head dropped, and he fluffed the hair at his nape, stressed and gauging his words. He let out his breath in a gust. “Yeah. Think about it. What he’s been doing. How he’s been acting. Fucking with the schedules. Being a human barricade. And what started this in the first place? You, me. It was him. You two have always had a complicated relationship, and his personal priority is fame, the band. Everything else fades in importance from that focal point.”</p><p>    Sakurai felt uncomfortable at the direction their conversation was taking. Imai? No. He’d always pushed him away.</p><p>    Issay continued. “Yeah… it was easier for him to prioritize fame than to face the chemistry he didn’t want to experience at all.” Sakurai challenged his train of thought, but he held up his hand. “No. Don't even try to deny it. I’ve seen you two together, remember?” He sighed, slapped his hands flat onto his thighs, and pushed off, standing up, and paced. “The way that Imai has to rule things, he can’t allow that kind of weakness to show. Beyond being a man, you’re a subordinate in his sights. It's a loss of power. It’s who he is, he has to be in control.”</p><p>    “I didn’t want a relationship with him. It was just fan service!” Sakurai protested.</p><p>Issay paced back and looked him in the eye. “Whatever you feel… I know that it’s complicated, but you were the one that was annoyed that he wouldn’t let you do it, too. It might have been fan service, but he responds to it. He couldn’t handle it.”</p><p>    Sakurai drank from his water bottle and thought through the haze of the beer and shochu. Dammit, he hadn’t wanted to drink tonight. But then, he’d also not wanted to have to face Imai or have this conversation either. The rippled plastic bottle crackled in his hand. Issay sighed and sat down next to him. Sakurai drank the last of the water and crushed the bottle. “Well, at least he was drunk off his rocker when he did it. He most likely won’t remember it tomorrow. But even if he did, it looks bad. He’ll pretend it never happened.”</p><p>    Sakurai leaned back and kicked his legs out straight in front of himself. He looked at Issay. “You’re right. It could have been a lot worse. I just…” he ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I just don’t like having to deal with any of this. It’s hard enough facing you and me, what we’ve been doing… but add a rabid, crazy-assed… jealous… Imai into the mix, and it’s too much for me to wrap my head around,” dropping his hands, huffing out a big sigh.</p><p> </p><p>    “Was anyone else there? Did anyone hear what was said, besides Hide?” Issay asked.</p><p>Sakurai’s eyes shadowed in wary discomfort. “There were the three of us in the hall, and the staff were all out for their dinner, so no one outside overheard… but we were loud. Guaranteed the others in the green room heard the fireworks in all their glory.”</p><p>    Issay grunted and rubbed his mouth. “Well, what is done cannot be undone. However… they’re not going to spread rumors. You know them by now. That was too much information from the both of you. But… I think you might be surprised at how much they could have already figured out on their own, from being there all these years. They most likely know the both of you better than you know yourselves.”</p><p>    Sakurai huffed his breath out through pursed lips, then laughed, overwhelmed. “Fuck. I can’t take this shit.” He laughed harder. It was as if all the stress of the past few weeks was trying to escape him all at once. He wiped the tears that formed in the corners of his eyes. “So. What are we going to do? We’ve just been outed. God damn. I can’t believe it.” He shook his head.</p><p>    “We keep it low key, the same as we’ve been. Imai’s issues shouldn’t have any impact upon our private lives. Tension is high right now with the tour final. I suggest we pretend this hasn’t happened, and let him do the same, then once this show is over, there will be space to cool off and think more clearly. Then everybody’s happy. Ish. Sort of. As best can be expected, with the situation.”</p><p>    Sakurai smiled and gave a quiet laugh. “Fuck, man.” He leaned into Issay and gave him a brief kiss. “OK,” he sighed, “Time for me to get back to my room and the both of us get some sleep tonight. I feel like I’ve not slept in a month.”</p><p> </p><p>____________________</p><p> </p><p>    The hot bath water splashed as he sank into it, to his shoulders. “Mmmh.” Sakurai couldn’t believe everything that had happened, but strangely he felt euphoric. They’d taken their train out the next afternoon, Imai looking not very healthy and hiding from the light. Issay had called it- he avoided him and acted like nothing had ever happened. He’d humiliated himself enough to buy them some peace finally. He hated to think it, but if that was what it took to get the bullshit to end, or at least reduce, then he’d take it. Tomorrow was the big show and then… depending on Issay’s schedule, they might be able to take some vacation time together. A small surge of excitement flushed through him, and he laughed at himself for it. This thing with Issay brought out the goofiest, weirdest side of him. It was rather freeing, he admitted. He liked it.</p><p>    Sakurai eased back in the tub, resting his back against the end of it. He was horny. It’d been a few days since they’d last fucked with everything going on, and much to his chagrin, discovered how much he really did crave fucking Issay. It was good though. God it was good. He smiled at the memories. Tomorrow night. After the show… if he could still move, he was going to fuck him. God damn, he was going to fuck him. Sorry, that’s how it’s going to be, folks. But at the moment his cock was saying it was time NOW. It’d been too long.</p><p>    His hand shifted his balls and the dark hair floated like a cloud, suspended in the water. He brushed his fingers over the thickest patch of it, at the base of his cock. He imagined it as seaweed, with tiny brilliant colored tropical fish swimming in its safe harbor. His cock had been growing tall and erect, and it stood like a spike of coral amongst the seaweed. He wrapped his hand around his length and remembered the red jell bath. Where did he get it? And why did he have it in stock in his bathroom? He’d have to ask.</p><p>    He felt the sensation of Issay’s cock against his tailbone in that bath, when he rode it to his orgasm. His hips wiggled in the bath at the memory, and his cock grew harder. He stroked himself off, the memory of Issay a palpable sensation. His fantasies moved on to the belts that had been tied around his arms, and his hand moved faster, his hips thrusting like they had when he was ordered to fuck Issay’s hand. His hand was now Issay’s, and he was there once more, his arms bound behind his back. Oh, yeah. This is the one. He held the image in his mind. The image that would make him come.</p><p>    He liked being tied up by Issay. But forcing him to jack himself off while bound… fuck. It’d driven him to madness. It was doing it again. He fucked his hand now, stopping its movement and letting his hips do all the work, just like that night. The water was a little too hot for his exertions, and he sweat profusely, his head spinning. It didn’t matter. His breath became labored. He watched himself fuck his hand in his bath, as he'd been forced to watch himself fuck Issay’s hand, in the mirror. Issay’s deep voice taunted like before, but he changed it for the moment, telling him how he now had to watch as he had to fuck it until he soiled his bath. The thought drove him wild. He thrust and thrust, and came- a big cloud of hazy thick cum erupting into the water like an underwater volcano, and watched it explode, fascinated, and feeling the rigors of his activities in the too hot water take their toll. He slumped down and regained his breath, but his head was floating and he felt overheated. Time to get out of the tub.</p><p>    Sakurai stood up out of the bath and pulled the drain stopper. The water drained as he dried off with a fluffy towel. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, Issay, tomorrow I’m going to fuck the hell out of you.</p><p> </p><p>_________________________________</p><p> </p><p>Lighting set up, choreography, practice- today’s show, the tour final, was much more ornate than the previous. They worked past normal lunch time, standing on X’s of gaffer tape as power tools shrieked around them, assembling the set. “OK! One hour for lunch, then we need to be back here for the final set check. The platform should be completed for Yuta by then, too. Don’t go far!” The parts for the set that elevated him up to be visible in the back had finally arrived on the truck after being stuck in the hectic city traffic. He’d not been able to have his lighting set up yet.</p><p>    They each went their separate ways to find a place away from the others, for space. Tour final was always more time consuming and tight, and getting some air from the stifling closeness was a must, whenever it was workable. It felt like you couldn’t take a shit without everyone knowing it. Sakurai left the stage through the wings and walked down the stairs to the halls that fed into the dressing rooms and makeup areas. This was a larger concert hall, with more plush performer areas.</p><p>    He saw Issay down the hall, getting a paper cone shaped cup of water from the spring water cooler. He looked up as Sakurai ran up to him and almost dumped the water on himself and the floor as he got grabbed by the other hand and dragged into the staff room across the hall. The door closed on its own with a hydraulic mechanism, and Sakurai locked it with a smile. “We’ve got an hour, including the time it takes to find something to eat and bolt it down… so to be safe, we’ve got less than half an hour before anyone tries to look for us.”</p><p>    Issay tossed the paper cone into the trash can that sat under the light switch. Sakurai had chosen the room well- the door was solid and there were no windows. “God… it’s been days, hasn’t it? Oof!” The wind got knocked out of him as Sakurai turned him around and shoved him against the gloss painted institutional cinder block wall. They gazed at each other, their faces bare inches apart.</p><p>Sakurai smiled. “Oh… way, way too long. I’ve been jerking myself off, biding my time, but I don’t like it. Which reminds me…” He thought of his fantasy in the bathtub last night. “Where did you get that strawberry bath stuff that time? You know, that red shit.”</p><p>Issay bit back a smile. “It looked like something you might enjoy when I saw it at the store. So I got it. You did, didn’t you?” Sakurai laughed, stunned. “You planned it? You expected me to come over again after our weekend at the onsen and planned it all?” He laughed until his stomach hurt and tears came to his eyes. “Shit.” He smiled and kissed Issay. Their lips touched, and the mood changed from humor to lust in seconds. Sakurai groaned, and his tongue slipped into Issay’s mouth, caressing against his tongue.</p><p>    Issay’s hand slipped beneath his shirt, and tried to find its way under his waistband, but had to stop to unbuckle his belt. It clanked a metallic clank and weighted his jeans open as the fly was unzipped. Sakurai unbuckled Issay’s belt and unhooked his pants waist band and lowered his zipper, plunging his hands into the knit cotton of his boxer briefs. They kissed once, twice, then Sakurai broke it off, looking around their surroundings. “What is it?” Issay asked him.</p><p>    “I just realized that we should have something on hand… we don’t have time for cleanup, and can’t change yet. There- this will have to do.” There was a roll of paper towels in the corner of the room, next to a stack of paper lunch plates left over from whoever had used the room last. He tore off two and handed one to Issay. “Yeah, it’s rough, but it beats the alternative.” He stuffed his own paper towel into his pants pocket and took his cock in hand and pressed his body against Issay’s once more. Issay took his cue and started to stroke his own cock. It would go faster and easier if they jerked themselves off. Fine by him. He still found it a kinky thrill.</p><p>    They kissed, Issay sucking on Sakurai’s lower lip, Sakurai sucking on Issay’s upper lip. Their cocks brushed into each other as they stroked. The hot silky flesh felt glorious against his own, so Sakurai brought their cocks closer against each other, head to head. “Oh, oh, I’m going to come…” Issay whispered. He stroked frantically.</p><p>    “Be careful. Don’t forget the paper towel.” Sakurai said as his own body warned him of his imminent orgasm’s approach. He grabbed the paper towel out of his pocket and pulled back just enough to cover his cock with the towel so he wouldn’t get cum on their clothes.</p><p>    “Oh… oh… oh… fucking god… oh…” His body wracked, his chest pressed forward against Issay, and they came. He clenched his lip in his teeth to keep from making too much noise. Issay slumped onto his shoulder, catching his breath.</p><p>    Gingerly Sakurai pulled the paper towel off his sensitive cock, wiping off the cum that had flowed down his length, then wadding it up to ditch in the bathroom later. He looked at the clock. “Shit. There goes our safety buffer. Time to get going.” He kissed Issay one last time before pulling up his underwear and fastening his jeans.</p><p> </p><p>________________</p><p> </p><p>He looked at himself in the bathroom’s mirror. Aglow. Again. He had to come down before he went back out there, or it’d be obvious he’d scored a piece during lunch break. He turned on the cold water and splashed his face off, dried himself, then combed his hair. There. That helped, somewhat. His eyes were shining too much though. Ah, fuck it. They can deal with it. He tossed the towel into the trash, and left the rest room, a spring in his step.</p><p>________________</p><p> </p><p>    The lights were hot and blinding. The main show was over, and they were just beginning the encore. Issay went out onto the stage and stood next to him, and he introduced him. Hard to believe that it was going to be their last time on stage together… at least, for this tour. So much had happened, both good and bad. He thought back to where they all began and marveled. He hadn’t even been sure they were going to speak to each other again, let alone work side by side successfully. Yet here they were. And they’d overcome the bullshit from Imai. Well… not overcome completely, but he’d been aloof and never brought it up again. Worked for him. He smiled at Issay. “Let’s give them one hell of a show tonight, huh?”</p><p>    Their encore set together flew by on wings. He felt good. It felt right. They danced, posed for photos as the camera flashes went off, flirted. He was with his friend. His best friend. The familiar notes of one of the band’s early songs began- ‘Just One More Kiss’. They snuggled up, Sakurai in Issay’s arms, singing. The crowd went wild. His eyes sparkled with mischief- they had no idea they were witnessing two very real lovers enjoying an exhibitionistic moment together, in front of the whole world. This was their one chance to be who they were with no question… or rather, if there was question, it was only one of how good they looked together… as a performance. He liked it. He turned his head and looked up at Issay and kissed him on the cheek. Wild screams from the audience. Issay raised his brow and smiled. “You’re on.”</p><p>    He wrapped his arms around Sakurai’s waist and pulled him in close. Sakurai stopped singing for a second, surprised at the rush of pleasure he felt shoot through him. He was where he wanted to be. The audience made it better, because they were oblivious to what was being flaunted in their faces. They swayed and sang, and as the song ended, he turned into Issay’s arms, and they sang gazing into each other’s faces. The fans screamed as if they were watching the end of the world. Perhaps they were. Sakurai smiled, the song ended, and he kissed Issay on the lips.</p><p>    Cameras snapped off, catching their intimate moment for posterity but he didn’t care. This is fan service after all. It’s just for show, right? He pulled back, and they clasped their hands together and bowed. Huge ovation… and walked off, hand in hand.</p><p>    The band continued to play, Imai performing his usual showboating solo as the press photographed him, and they ran down to the green room to get freshened up by the makeup and hair staff before heading out for their curtain call. “We did it.”</p><p>Issay smiled. “Yeah, we did. Now what? Looks like there’s some vacation time coming up. Care to go to an onsen? I could use the escape.”</p><p>Sakurai laughed. He had a feeling that any vacation he took with Issay, he’d likely come back more tired than when he had left.</p><p>    “Five minutes to curtain call!” The stage coordinator called into the room. He spoke into his headset to the lighting crew, not pausing to check if they had heard him or not. The show was still churning out there- it wasn’t over until everyone had gone home. Issay breathed, grounding. “You go on up ahead. I come out after the band has taken their first bows anyway. I’ll meet you there.” Sakurai didn’t even look to see if anyone was around before kissing Issay a quick peck on the lips, and left, a smile on his face.</p><p> </p><p>    Imai bowed and flicked a few more guitar picks into the audience. They made a great show of autographing Toll’s drum skin and flipped it out into the audience like a frisbee. Shrieks and scrambling, and a fan in the lower balcony seating caught it. He bounced his drum sticks off of the stage, one after another, and threw them as far as he could into the center audience.</p><p>    Sakurai grabbed a microphone, and a hush fell over the crowd to hear what he had to say. “Good evening… and thank you for coming to our last show of the tour. It’s been a great tour, and we’ve had a lot of fun playing for you. I would like to thank our special guest, Issay, for his contributions to the album, and time he’s spent with us on this tour. Issay, you've done a great job.”</p><p>Issay came out of the wings, and the light of the spotlight flashed against the foil and tissue paper wrapped around a dozen red roses he carried in his hand. The other hand held a magnum of champagne. He walked up to Sakurai, handed him the roses and kissed him again on the cheek, smiling and whispered to him, “See? You got your roses and champagne after all.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>~THE END~</strong>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. -ANNOUNCEMENT-</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sequel, <b>Beloved Rockstar 2</b> is in the works and on the way! </p>
<p>ETA is a ways off- a few months. </p>
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  <i>STAY TUNED!</i>
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